


Take Responsibility

by Blunette (Hoshikuzu_san)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, M/M, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-09-16 21:59:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9291314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoshikuzu_san/pseuds/Blunette
Summary: After confronting Dumbledore about their failure-of-a-Savior Longbottom, Draco learns of another boy who would fit the bill. His name is Harry Potter, and he lives with his Muggle relatives in Little Whinging. Oh, and he knows nothing of the wizarding world or magic.Or, the story of Draco going to the Muggle Realm to fetch him, and how that affects them both.





	1. 1

Draco Malfoy stormed into Dumbledore’s office with ire radiating off his person in toxic waves. Professors with the intention to stop or even retard his objective were dealt a swift snarl and glower as he roughly shoved passed anyone in his way.

“Headmaster,” the blond growled, eyes flashing dangerously. “For Godric’s sake, do  _ not  _ attempt to persuade me that this is the best you can do.”

“Mr Malfoy,” Professor McGonagall began, but snapped her jaw shut when he whirled on her, expression feral. She glared at him with open incredulity.

He raised his brows and stared her down.

When her eyes uncertainty flickered down and away from his, Draco turned back on his primary target.

“This will not do,” he hissed when it appeared the Headmaster was content to merely watch him. “This isn’t a school anymore, but a base of operation for this sodding  _ War _ . I will  _ not  _ risk my life, let alone those of my loved ones, for whatever you’re  _ hoping  _ will magically happen. Longbottom isn’t going to work.”

“Mr Malfoy,” Dumbledore began in that calm, antagonizing voice that set Draco’s teeth grinding. “The prophecy-”

“Bullshit,” Malfoy snapped, ignoring McGonagall when the old bat made a face as though to reprimand him. He wasn’t  _ bloody  _ finished. “I’m tired of hearing about this god awful prophecy, because at this point, set  _ me _ on Voldemort. Even I would stand a better chance than herbalist, pacifist, weak, meek  _ Longbottom _ .”

When the Headmaster merely watched him again, Draco visibly reigned in his anger to continue as calmly as possible—with his jaw clenched and his fists even moreso.

“He can’t fight,” Malfoy ground out, “not enough to win, anyway. He lacks killing intent. He can’t use his wand for much for than defensive spells, and the darker arts disturb him to the point of illness. Not to mention that he can barely follow orders, let alone lead  _ an army _ . I’ve been training him for  _ months _ ,” Draco stressed, “since the start of ‘school’, and even before then. He’s learning, admittedly, but dangerously slowly. Either he needs even more incentive than, say, the macabre death of all we hold dear in this beautiful world we barely know, or he simply cannot and will not be ready in time. The war is in a few more months, and we  _ just  _ have time to find another Savior, if we move swiftly.”

McGonagall gaped at him openly. “What you’re suggesting is  _ absurd _ !” She spat the word as if it should hurt, as if her opinion should matter to him. “There’s simply no  _ time  _ to train an entirely new Savior!”

Malfoy rolled his eyes candidly. “With the right Dark spells, the new one won’t even need full training, should they prove as inept as Longbottom. They just need to be able to  _ follow sodding orders _ .”

“And who is  _ they _ ?” McGonagall quipped, pressing her thin lips together smugly. “There is simply no other-”

“There  _ must  _ be,” Draco argued, “there must be  _ someone _ -”

“And you're simply going to abandon Longbottom,” McGonagall asked, voice snide.

“I'm not abandoning anyone,” Draco hissed. “I've been driven to this  _ because  _ I won't abandon anyone. In order to save  _ everyone _ , we need a new Savior. Longbottom cannot do it alone.”

“Mr Malfoy,” Dumbledore interrupted politely.

The blond gave the wizard his undivided attention.

“There is another.”

Draco gawked.

McGonagall blanched.

“Who?” Malfoy whispered, taking an unconscious, ambitious step forward. His eyes were bright, open. All threat slipped from around the boy like armor fitted precariously to a form two sizes too small.

“Harry Potter,” said the Headmaster.

“Harry Potter?” McGonagall parroted skeptically.

“Harry Potter,” Draco breathed, and simply the name left sparks along his tongue, a buzzing in his ears. “Where is he? Where can I find him?”

“How old is he, you mean,” McGonagall cut in primly. “War or not, I refuse to sweep some toddler away from his home-”

“There won’t be a home if we don’t win this War,” Draco cut in snidely, though he silently agreed. As impressionable as younguns were, as easy as it would be to puppet the child into their favor, Malfoys weren’t murderers.

“He’s amongst the Muggles, I believe,” Dumbledore said. And then he shrugged, scratching as his beard as he pursed a lip in thought.

“Muggleborn?” Draco asked, surprised.

“No,” the Headmaster said.

Draco frowned. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“He was born from Lily and James Potter, of course, both of whom were wizards.”

“Then why is he among Muggles-” Draco felt horror dawn on him just as understanding did.

“He doesn’t know he’s a wizard,” McGonagall said hollowly, and her eyes, usually alive with either passion or annoyance, dulled.

She had hoped, just as Malfoy. She had dared to hope.

“Why, there is still hope, my boy,” Dumbledore assured in usual, jolly way.

Draco wanted to smack him.

“What do you mean?” he ground out. It was a physical effort not to let any curses slip from between his lips at the barmy old coot.

“He’s powerful,” the Headmaster said simply, but his eyes lost their jovial twinkle. When he leaned forward, an ominous shadow fell across his startlingly humorless features. “He must know he’s not normal, even if he doesn’t know exactly what he is. With the correct guide, I’m sure Mr Potter could be persuaded to save the world he’s always dreamt of.”

Draco felt an illicit shiver travel down his spine. “You knew of this boy and never...?”

“Surely you haven’t been...  _ planning  _ this, Albus.” McGonagall chuckled nervously.

“Of course not.” Dumbledore laughed, but there was something off. Something dark.

Draco took a cautionary step back from the man, and the Headmaster abruptly sobered, eyeing the blond intently.

McGonagall cleared her throat and shuffled her feet anxiously. “How old is he, Albus?”

“Eighteen, just as young Mr Malfoy, here.”

“And where is he, exactly?” Draco asked slowly. “How can I find him?”

The Headmaster smiled. “Why, his High School, of course.”

* * *

“This is insane,” Theodore Nott hissed as he tugged his hat further down his face. “I can’t believe you’re actually doing this.”

Draco nodded in silent agreement as he tugged at his Muggle clothes with distaste. “Either way,” he began grudgingly, “it will surely be a riveting tale to go down in history when I end up winning us the War.”

Nott eyed him dubiously. “You really think this will work? Malfoy, this kid won’t even know what wands  _ are _ .”

The blond sighed solemnly. “Well, it’s our best chance, isn’t it?”

“Neville might-”

“Theo.”

“Okay, fine,” Nott huffed, “but he’ll at least stand a  _ chance _ . We’ll at least go down fighting.”

“If I have anything to say about it, we won’t go down at all.”

And with that prophetic declaration hanging in the air, Draco Malfoy walked into Little Whinging High School.

Theodore watched him go before shaking his head, casting a Repello Muggletum charm, and mounting his broom to return to Hogwarts, where he would remain until summoned.

Inside the school, Draco didn’t know where to look, exactly, but assured himself that even Muggles must have some sort of administrative office in their educational edifices. Deciding that was the best course of action, Malfoy tapped on the shoulder of the nearest Muggle.

The boy stopped in his laughing with his friends to turn and give the blond a sneer.

“What do you want?” he spat.

Draco raised his eyebrows, alarmed by the unwarranted hostility. “Where is the nearest administrative office?” he asked as politely as he could manage.

The boy sniggered. “The office? It’s in the front of the school.”

“Yes, well, I seem to be a bit lost. Would you mind pointing me in the ‘front’ direction? Your assistance would be much appreciated.”

The boy raised an eyebrow. “You’re taking the piss, yeah?”

“I am, regrettably, genuinely this directionless.”

With a roll of his eyes, the boy pointed him down a hallway. “S’down there. It shouldn’t be hard to find.”

Draco nodded at him. “Thank you.” And then he was on his way.

Some Muggles stared as he strode by in characteristic, Malfoy fashion, but Draco paid them no mind. They were meaningless to him, to his objective.

When he spotted an office occupied by adults shuffling important-looking papers and sitting behind important-looking desks, he assumed he’d found the right one. He walked right in, and when the door slammed shut behind him, he was just as startled as the adults. Did they not have charms for that?

Ah, yes.

Muggles.

“I apologize for the disturbance,” he began, not bothering with informalities, because he was a man on a mission. “I’m searching for one Harry Potter.”

The adults shared looks with one another.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “He does attend this establishment, yes?”

“Who are you, exactly?” one woman asked.

“His cousin,” Draco lied. “Good old Auntie said I ought to just stop by and pick him up from school, you see. Family emergency, and all of that.”

“Uh huh,” the woman intoned, doubt written across her visage. “And what is your name?”

“Draco-” Fuck. “Dursley. Draco Dursley.” Merlin, that sounded disturbing.

“Harry Potter doesn’t have any cousins other than Dudley Dursley listed on his file,” someone from the back hollered.

“I’m a recent addition,” Draco continued flawlessly.

“We weren’t alerted of-”

“Very recent,” Draco reiterated, narrowing his eyes.

A few of the staff shifted nervously.

“Mrs or Mr Dursley would have called-”

“It’s an emergency!” Draco snapped, and a few Muggles visibly flinched back. “I don’t have time to waste, so if you would be so kind as to show me to my  _ cousin _ , I would not be ungrateful.”

“We can’t just-”

With an impatient snarl, Draco brandished his wand and shut the blinds on the office windows with a flick, followed by a swift  _ Obviate  _ to the Muggles and afterwards casting an  _ Imperio  _ to one in particular.

Yes, he was breaking all kinds of wizarding law, but this was for the greater good, dammit.

“Show me to Harry Potter,” he hissed.

* * *

When the  _ Imperioed  _ office member threw open the door to a seemingly random classroom, Draco trusted the balding man had made the correct choice and stepped in.

“Um,” began the eloquent professor, adjusting her glasses and tucking auburn curls behind her ear. “Who is this?”

“Draco Malfoy,” the blond introduced himself smoothly, stepping up to her and holding out a hand. The class giggled, and Draco turned his head to raise an eyebrow at them. When he felt a wary hand take his own, he returned his attention to the woman and smiled amiably. “I apologize for the unexpected interruption, but it seems I am to be put in this class, as of today.”

The woman furrowed thin eyebrows. “Are you transferring from another English class?”

“From another school, more like,” he replied while releasing her hand.

Her eyes widened, eyebrows ascending to her hairline. “Oh! Why-” She turned to the hazy-eyed man still loitering by the door. “Why wasn’t I alerted of this transfer beforehand?”

“It was unexpected,” the blond explained, still smiling.

“How could it be-”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he supplied vaguely.

“I don’t see how-”

Draco’s smile remained, but took a decidedly dark turn.

She halted in her rebuttal at the sight of it. 

“I’m sure I could discuss it with you after class, if that would be preferred, Miss.”

“A-alright,” she murmured, eyeing him warily before turning back to the class who had been watching the exchange with avid curiosity. “Class, please welcome Draco. Draco, dear, why don’t you take the empty seat in the back.”

He nodded obediently, but as he walked down the aisle, he waved his wand—disguised in the sleeve of his jacket—in the direction of the man at the door. Said man stiffened and straightened up, glancing around the classroom in a startled, frazzled manner before quickly apologizing for the interruption and fleeing.

The blond scoffed at the show before returning his attention to the class. He didn’t gawk at them, as they did he, but an inconspicuous eye did regard them shallowly. He was looking for-

Draco arrived at his seat, but that wasn’t why he had paused. No, it was for the boy seated directly behind him—the boy who had met his eyes, ducked his head, and glanced away, but not fast enough as to prevent Draco from registering his eye color. Green. Lily Potter green. This, this must be the boy, their Savior.

“Draco?” the professor called.

As some classmates giggled, the blond didn’t show any outward signs of embarrassment for having been caught staring, and merely seated himself before turning to the window directly beside him.

He wasn’t here to attend school, or humor professors, or amuse Muggle children. He was here to recruit Harry Potter.

The rest of the class passed in a blur, followed by a loud, grating noise that seemed to symbolize absolute anarchy as all the children abruptly sprung into the air, grabbed their materials, and hopped, skipped, and leapt from the room.

Draco, of course, had hung back because he’d promised to speak with the professor about his unique circumstances, not because he’d been frightened by such commotion from weak  _ Muggles.  _

A few others seemed to be taking their sweet time abandoning their classroom as well, and luckily for the blond, one of which was the green-eyed boy.

Draco stiffened at that thought. Luckily enough...? Circe’s  _ tits _ , why hadn’t he thought to brew and down some Liquid Luck before venturing on this journey of his? Surely it wouldn't be explicitly permitted, but that dumb old door would turn a blind eye if it was for the greater good of his mission. 

Draco groaned to himself. He was an  _ idiot _ .  _ Merlin _ .

Shaking away such thoughts, he quickly grabbed his own bag—adorned by an Undetectable Extension Charm, of course—and stepped up next to the rather harried looking brunette.

“Harry Potter?” he asked, going out on a limb, but ninety percent sure he was correct. You didn’t see eyes like that on just anyone.

However, Draco had pictured the great Harry Potter... differently.

Potter was a thin kid with a faint dusting of freckles across his cheeks and a bird’s nest of black hair atop his head. He looked weak, in all candidness, with knobby knees and large hands which made his wrists look all the more dainty. His clothes looked worn, his posture diminutive.

He didn’t look anymore like a Savior than Longbottom did, and at least Longbottom had muscle from years of training and a variety of spells at his disposal.

The boy looked up at him in surprise. “Um, yes?”

“So, that’s you? Your name is Harry Potter?” 

The boy nodded slowly.

Draco stifled a moan of despair. “Are you sure?”

The boy frowned at him. “You just called it, didn’t you? What do you want? Do I know you?”

Draco sighed. Another wimpy kid. This wasn’t going to be easy, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try. “No, but, see, I have to talk to you.”

“We are talking.”

“No, you tit, I mean-”

“Draco?” the professor beckoned. “Come here, if you will?”

“Damn Muggle,” he grumbled before returning his attention to the skeptical boy. “Wait for me, will you?”

“I’ll be late to my next class.”

“This will be worth it.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“I’ll make it worth your while, yeah?”

“No, not ‘yeah’. I have to get to my class.”

Draco glared at him. “Don’t you get it? None of this even matters.”

“What?” Potter asked, narrowing his eyes. “Are you high?”

“Draco?” the professor repeated.

The blond, frustrated, ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I know, alright? I know you’re special.”

“Okay, you’re on some kind of drug I don’t want anything to do with-”

“No, you—Salazar, must you make things so difficult? I’m trying to  _ help _ . Surely strange phenomena have been occurring around you, likely since you were young.”

Peculiarly enough, that didn’t seem to ground Potter, but made him frightened, instead. The boy had a hunted look about him, as though Draco had ill intent. He appeared prepared to attack, or bolt.

The blond, confident in his own ability, placed a hand on the other boy’s shoulder. Potter jumped at the contact, and made a move to shove his hand off, but Draco gripped him hard, and looked him in the eye. Gone was the facade for the Muggle professor, and what replaced it was the war-hardened, determined boy who was going to get what he wanted.

“I’m here to help,” he promised, and it was fierce.

Endless green eyes widened. Potter’s lips parted, as if to speak, and Draco waited with baited breath until-

“Draco?” the woman called again, sounding faintly irritated.

Potter, as if breaking from his reverie, flushed and stepped away from him, jerkily yanking the strap of his knapsack over his shoulder. He looked just as unsure as before, and Draco was vexed. So close, he’d been  _ so  _ close-

“Mr Malfoy, I don’t have time-”

Draco, with a snarl, stepped away from Potter and lifted his arm. His sleeve fell away, revealing ten inches of hawthorn wood with a unicorn hair core. With a flick, the door to the classroom slammed shut. “ _ Colloportus _ ,” he cast.

The Muggle woman leapt in her seat, head whipping towards the door, and Potter looked from the door to Draco’s wand with a pale face and shaky hands.

“Professor,” the blond drawled, and when she glanced at him, “ _ Obliviate _ .” She slumped in her chair, and with that, Draco took Potter’s hand.

Potter stiffened, and Draco yanked his arm until the boy looked at him, eyes wide.

“I know this is bizarre and extremely intrusive of me, but you’re going to have to trust me.”

“I—You— _ What _ ?”

“I didn't transfer to this school or any such nonsense, I came for you, and only you. This is important. Will you follow my lead?”

“I—I don’t-”

“Potter,” Draco repeated, focused and annoyed. “I need you to trust me.”

Potter, after gaping for a few more moments and staring him directly in the eyes, as if gauging the validity of his words, hesitantly closed his mouth and nodded. Still pale, still trembling, but when he gulped and gripped Draco’s hand fiercely, it seemed he had hardened his resolve.

The professor moaned, beginning to shift as though regaining lucidity, and children were beginning to make a ruckus at the locked door.

“Repello Muggletum,” the blond cast, and when the faint shimmering subsided, “ _ Alohomora _ .”

The door opened, students piled in, and Potter pressed against him nervously.

“How-” he began, but Draco ignored him, confidently striding into the throng of students who piled in, pulling Potter behind him like a crup on a leash. They parted for him like rivulets of water in wake of something forceful, something regal and important.

Out of the classroom and down the halls, to the building exit they went.

“We can’t just walk out,” Potter insisted nervously.

Draco ignored that, too. “I can do what I please.”

“Hey!” an authority figure, Draco assumed, called after them. “Just where do you two think you’re going?”

Draco spun, “ _ Confundus _ ,” and then continued on their way, but this time, sprinting. “Come on,” he urged when Potter’s lagging began to tug on him.

“Where will we go?” Potter asked, panting faintly as they leapt through the doors and down the path of the schoolyard. “They’ll call—they’ll call my house if I ditch school.”

“None of this matters,” Draco assured as they deserted the path and skipped around to the back of the building, into a group of trees.

“No, my Aunt’ll throw a fit—they might call the cops-”

“Then I will speak to them.”

“No, look, um, Draco-”

Draco ceased running. He ceased moving at all, in fact, causing Potter to slam into him. While the other boy cussed and regained his composure, Draco stared him down.

“I will handle it. I’ll handle anything, Potter, because this is important. I need you for this, and frankly, no one else will do. Whatever it is, tell me, and I’ll deal with it.”

Potter blinked at him. “What do you need me for, exactly?”

“That is a question with too many answers, and there’s a preface before even that. First, brief me on anything that may be connecting you to this place. Friends, family, loved ones, and other such responsibilities.”

Potter stared at him. “Are we going somewhere?”

“Ideally, yes, but ultimately it will be your choice, in the end. Of course, if you decide not to join me, I’ll have to erase your memory of me ever being here, but, well, that’s your perogative.”

Potter gulped. “Where are we going?”

“That’s in the preface. First things first, however. You mentioned your guardians possibly being an issue?”

“Uh, yeah. They might... have a word or two on me leaving school, let alone going somewhere with you.”

Draco waved a hand. “Never bother. Consider it handled.”

“Draco...” Potter shuffled his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets. “My guardians aren’t... They won’t like me leaving. They won’t like you. Hell, they don’t even like me.” Potter stared at him. “Why are you smirking like that?”

Draco couldn’t help himself. “Forgive me for any insensitivity on my part, Potter, but it almost sounds as though you dislike your home life.”

“...One could say that,” he conceded, eyes narrowed.

“Again, apologies, but that delights me merely because it heightens the possibility of you coming with me. You will be able to see your Muggle relatives eventually, of course, but the majority of your time will be spent with others of our kind.”

“Our kind?” Potter asked, falling into step behind the blond as Draco continued their trek into the woods behind the school. 

The blond felt little more than contempt for the gangly boy, but as they ambled down the path, Draco felt Potter seemed to belong bobbing along beside him, limbs swinging with unexplored life and motion.

“Wizards. You’re a wizard, Harry.”

Potter scoffed, and then paused. Then, he scrambled to catch up with the blond who hadn’t bothered stopping for him. “You’re kidding.”

“Not in the least. All that business before? That was me, Draco Malfoy, pureblood heir of the Malfoy family, casting spells with my wand. Because I’m a wizard. You are as well, you simply haven’t a wand because no one bothered to give you one, because no one bothered to come and find you, I suppose. Which is bizarre in it’s own right, considering Hogwarts should have owled you at the age of eleven-”

“Hog warts? What the hell?”

“My school, you troglodyte. It far suprasses this one. Besides, I don’t want to hear it from a boy who grew up in a town by the name of ‘Little Whinging’.”

“Your school was supposed to send me an owl?”

“No, owled  _ you _ . That’s how we have our mail delivered; by owl.”

“Like carrier pigeons?”

“Pigeons are idiots. Owls are magical beings.”

“So not, like, dragons.”

Draco stopped to stare at him. “Why on earth would you want a dragon delivering mail? Where would it land? Can you imagine a dragon in Wizarding London? Or, I suppose there are a smaller ones,” he conceded, “though I don't think they take well to domestication or training of any sorts. That's why teacup dragons make such poor pets, you see.”

Potter stared right back at him. “You’re trying to tell me dragons exist?”

“Of course.”

“And where is wizarding London?”

“Where I want to take you. Where all the Wizards are, obviously.”

“Except me, if I’m to believe you.”

“Well,” Draco conceded as they continued walking. “Some wizards are Muggleborn, meaning they’re conceived by completely non-magical parents. They, naturally, are not born in Wizarding London, but even they, usually, receive a Hogwarts letter.”

“Does Hogwarts have all the wizarding students?”

Draco barked out a laugh. “Of course not! Just the ones from Britain. Beauxbatons is for French wizards, for example.”

Potter was quiet for a while, and then, “If I’m Muggleborn, why didn’t they mail—or—owl me?”

“You’re not Muggleborn, for one. Your parents were both wizards, even though the relatives currently housing you are not. For another, I’ve no idea. Dumbledore, our Headmaster, has apparently been aware of your existence, but simply, for reasons unbeknownst by myself, failed to act on it. It puzzles me as well, but I suppose we may simply ask him after we arrive. That is, if you're prepared for a long winded explanation that will inevitably leave you satisfied up until about two the next morning when you realize he didn't, actually, answer your question.”

Potter seemed lost in thought, so Draco continued rambling.

“I suspect he's a natural legilimens in that way, but he would never admit to such a thing, of course, or there would be lawsuits flying left and right. You're not supposed to go mucking around in one’s minds without their permission, after all. And most of the time, people can sense that sort of probing, anyway. However, Dumbledore  _ is _ a powerful wizard, grudging as I may be to admit it. Not powerful enough to win us this war, but powerful enough that none of us soldiers are quaking in our boots quite yet. And, well, there's you.”

When Draco glanced over, mildly worried he'd revealed too much, it was to see perceptive eyes already on him.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Draco opened his mouth, ready to let the kneazle out of the coin purse, but hesitated. As cocksure and charming as he knew himself to be, Draco could acknowledge the fact that people often found his candidness off-putting. He didn't like to sugarcoat things, especially things that left his loved ones’ lives on the line.

But in this circumstance, he couldn't afford to offend, or worse, frighten Potter with his own grim outlook. His determination was strong, but it seemed more a Slytherin trait to go out and do something. Gryffindors wanted, and Ravenclaw’s  _ could _ , and Hufflepuffs tried, but Slytherins  _ were _ .

Perhaps he should wait until Potter was sorted, first. Until he was introduced to a little wizarding culture. Until he fell in love with the world he didn't know and had a  _ reason  _ to fight for it.

Or, better yet, get someone else to inspire Potter. Draco was good at giving orders, but he wasn't the most sympathetic guy.

“Let's put that on hold,” the blond offered.

“What?”

“I can't explain that yet, is all.”

“What?” Potter repeated, affronted. At Draco's unimpressed glance, he looked away and mumbled, “I don't like secrets.”

“It's not, really. I'm sure the second I introduce you to everyone, they'll be climbing down your throat in attempts to be the first ones to demand things of you. You'll know, and very soon, but I don't want to be the first one to tell you, because I don't want to demand things of you, either, and I know that's how it will sound, because, in a way, you're the one we need—and, that, Potter, was me already guilting you into something you're ignorant of.” Draco sighed. “Enough of this. I'm depressing myself, and this is my day off.”

“Day off from what?” Potter asked, wisely dropping the subject for know.

“School and training,” Draco explained, distracted. “I think it's around here.”

“What is?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“Because you're not  _ telling _ me anything!”

Draco found the other boy’s frustration amusing. “My broom,” he said.

“Your  _ what _ ?” But Potter's exclamation fell on deaf ears as Draco abruptly gripped at his hair and began cussing.

“Shite, I'm an  _ idiot _ . I could have just—Merlin, and we've done so much walking—Godric, I  _ know _ , Pansy, this is why we can't have nice things.”

Potter stared, eyes wide. “What's wrong?”

“ _ Accio  _ broom!” Draco hollered, extending an arm while he swished his wand in his other hand. In but a moment, a beautifully crafted broom zipped through the trees and into the blond’s awaiting hand.

Potter looked duly impressed.

Draco swiftly mounted it.

Potter looked duly horrified.

“What?”

“You're serious.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, and when understanding dawned on him, smirked. He kicked off, just barely above the ground, and leaned forward, floating dangerously into Potter's personal space. “Scared, Potter?”

Potter scowled, but his flaming cheeks gave him away as he swatted at the snickering blond like a fly.

“No, do be wary,” Draco agreed, “wouldn't want me to sweep you off your feet or anything.” After a wink and flip of his hair, Draco released a choked noise before throwing back his head and laughing. “Your  _ face _ ! Y-you should  _ see _ your  _ face _ —I c-can't-”

Potter growled. “You're an arse, you know that? I've never—A broom? How is that even holding your weight? I'm not  _ used  _ to magic, you ponce, let alone  _ flying _ .”

Draco, calming down, wiped a tear from his eye. “I won't drop you,” he assured, lowering the broom and scooting forward. “Hop on. You're practically a stick, anyway. My bag likely weighs more than you do. Why are you still wavering? Come on, Potter, I don't have all day, and I promised, didn't didn't I? You’ve trusted me so far.”

“And all that’s gotten me is detention, likely.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’ll handle it. Didn’t I say I’d handle it? It’s covered. I’m a wizard, I can do that.”

Potter still looked wary, but after some more goading from the annoying ‘pureblood heir of the Malfoy family,’ he clambered on.

“Hold on tight,” Draco directed half-heartedly as he kicked off the ground with more purpose.

Potter slid forward, pressing against him—though from fear or obedience, the blond wasn’t sure—his faintly freckled hands fisting the back of Draco’s muggle sweatshirt.

“Comfy?” Draco asked. Not sarcastically, not to call him out on their close proximity, but because he cared.

Potter didn’t reply, but Draco could feel something tickling his nape. Potter’s hair? He must have been nodding.

“Don’t like heights?” Draco asked.

“Something like that,” Potter replied, voice tight.

When they broke above the treeline, witnessed only by the bright sky and the very tops of buildings, Potter seemed to relax.

“This is brilliant,” the brunette breathed.

“Yeah?” Draco hadn’t invented brooms, or even flying, but in that moment, with how smug and proud he felt, he might as well have. “Our school sport is Quidditch,” he boasted.

“Quidditch?” Potter asked, sounding out the word on his tongue. “Does that have to do with brooms?”

“Does it have to do with brooms,” Draco repeated, shaking his head. “Potter, a year from now, let me remind you that you said that. You’ll think it’s hilarious.”

Potter nudged him a bit. “Tit. How do you play?” Ah, it hadn't been intended as a nudge, but an indignant punch. Draco dutifully treated it as such and theatrically clutched his arm, swerving the broom dangerously and forcing novice flyer Potter to screech and smack the blond repeatedly until he got into under control once more. 

Draco was still snickering when he replied, “The object of the game is to score more points than your opponents.”

“So, pretty much every sport, ever,” Potter deadpanned. “Except for, like, tag.”

“Will you calm down? I’m getting to that. In Quidditch, there’s this smaller ball called a Snitch, and catching that is worth one-hundred fifty points, while normal goals are only worth ten. The game ends when the Snitch is caught. Obviously, the real point of the game is to snatch the Snitch before your opponent. That’s me, the Seeker. My role is to catch it.”

“Are you any good?”

“The bloody best.”

“Are you really?”

Draco turned his head to scowl at him. Potter’s wayward hair was flung about in such a way that, for a moment, the black strands reminded the blond of the petals from a spider chrysanthemum—long, wild, and curled at the ends.

“I just said I was, didn’t I? Anyone who disagrees is either a sore loser, hasn’t seen me play, or needs to get their eyes checked. Simple as that. Anyway, where was I? The game ends when the Snitch is caught, or an agreement is reached between the captains of both teams. Some games can go on for many days if the Snitch is not caught.”

“What was the longest?”

“According to  _ Quidditch Through the Ages _ , the longest game lasted three months.”

“You’re joking.”

“It intrigues me how many different ways you can verify that I am, indeed, being sincere.”

“Sorry, I just... This is all a lot to take in.”

“Speaking of things that are a lot to take in-”

“If you say yourself, I’m going to push you off this broom.”

“One, that would inevitably lead to your untimely death as I still have my wand, and two, that’s vulgar.” The tips of pale ears were a rosy hue, and seeing that, Potter smiled. “I was  _ trying  _ to segway into discussing your guardians and where they may reside, so that I won’t have to continue flying aimlessly into the distance—we’ll reach America eventually, I’m sure.”

“Could be fun,” Potter chirped, teasing.

“ _ After  _ receiving permission to abduct you from your Muggle relatives, and after we visit Wizarding London. Then you can fly all the way to  _ Canada _ , if you’d like.”

“That could be nice, too. Would you come with me?”

“With the right amount of bribery, sure. That, and as long as we travel by floo. The cushioning charm on a broom only does so much, after all. That many hours and I think I can speak for the both of us when I say that we would rather dive headfirst into the ocean than enduring it long enough to reach land.”

“Are charms different than spells?” Potter inquired, leaning on the blond a bit more. The wind had picked up, so he was probably having trouble hearing.

Draco suddenly remembered Potter’s ratty clothes, all the holes and thinned fabric, and realized Potter must be cold.

“Where did you say your Aunt and Uncle live, again?”

“4 Privet drive.”

“Ah, yes, of course, and where might that be?”

Potter snickered. “See that building down there with the big apple painted on the side? That’s the restaurant closest to my house. We could walk from there.”

And they did.


	2. 2

Draco landed them both as inconspicuously as possible behind the building, grimacing as he could already hear McGonagall reprimanding him for such a poorly hidden descent. But, desperate times.

The blond stored his broom away—“Holy shit, did you just shove that entire broom in your backpack?”—and then they were off.

Draco rang the doorbell.

“I live here, you doof, you don’t need to-”

Draco shrugged. “I’ve never gone over a friend’s house by door before,” Draco admitted easily. “Usually, it’s by floo, and then we’re usually greeted.”

“What is a floo, exactly?”

“Fireplace.”

Potter stared at him bizarrely. “You go from fireplace to fireplace.”

“Well, we go by magic, but yes, that is generally where we come out.”

“And you’re usually... greeted?”

“Well, of course. You wouldn’t open up your floo unless you were expecting visitors.”

Potter ran a hand through his hair. “You know what? I don’t care right now. Are you... sure you can do this?” He seemed, for the first time in at least an hour, anxious. “They’re... kind of a lot.”

Draco smirked. “If you haven’t noticed, so am I. Once you meet my family, you’ll understand.”

Potter stared at him. “Will I?”

“Will you what?”

“Meet your family.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Sure, if you want. I don't see why you couldn't. My mother will probably go spare over you, in fact. She has a thing for treating anyone smaller than myself as a stray animal in need of love, affection, and overbearing amounts of food.” Draco smiled at the thought of his mother. “I think you'd like her.”

Potter ducked his head as he turned to unlock the door, but Draco just caught the small smile. Then, Potter pushed it open just as a woman scurried down the hall, supposedly to belatedly get the door they had just come in through.

She appeared a mixture of appalled and shocked. She masked it all poorly with a smile.

“Why, Harry, dear. I wasn’t aware we were having guests. You don’t usually bring people over.”

“Because I don’t usually have friends,” Potter drawled.

Draco simply stood by, smiling politely, but inwardly he was surprised. Gone was the nice enough, albeit meek Potter Draco had come to acquaint himself with, replaced rather unexpectedly by this new ‘angsty teen’ persona.

“Is this your... friend, then?”

Potter shrugged, staring at the wall disinterestedly.

“I’ve actually come to speak with you, ma’am,” the blond finally cut in. He approached her wary form with an amiable smile and outstretched arm. “Draco Malfoy, pleasure to finally meet you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Finally?”

“Harry here kept going on and on about you two, and how you wouldn’t condone him coming on a little trip with me.”

The woman, likely Petunia Dursley, narrowed her eyes just barely.

“Where? When?”

“My summer home, in France, tonight.”

The woman paled visibly. “Excuse me?”

“The flight leaves soon, actually, so it is rather pertinent to me that I’m permitted to take your son along with me as soon as possible. I promise to return him in one piece, and I always keep my promises, don’t I, Potty?” Draco turned to smirk at the brunette, who made a face at him before returning to his dust mite watching.

He did, however, appear tenser than before. Was Potter nervous? Did Potter doubt him?

“I—No, no, I’m sorry, young man, but there’s no way-”

“I see you caught my lie,” Draco sighed.

Petunia’s eyes widened. “ _ Excuse _ me?”

A rather portly man somewhat resembling a walrus entered the hall as well, squinting his small eyes. His ruddy complexion darkened when he saw his nephew with a guest.

“What’s going on here?”

Draco brightened visibly, delighted. “Perfect! See, I’m taking Potter to Hogwarts, whether you two like it or not.”

Petunia paled impossibly, wilting against her quickly reddening counterpart for support. “Gods, no,” she wheezed.

“And who the bloody hell are you?” the man crowed.

“Draco Malfoy, pureblood heir to the Malfoy clan. And a wizard, if that wasn’t obvious. Potter is, too, so I’m taking him where he belongs.”

“The bloody letter,” the man hissed. “We burned that years ago! What do you want now?”

Draco’s eyes widened, and then he turned to Potter. “Your Hogwarts letter. They burned it.”

Potter visibly started. He whirled on his guardians. “You knew? You knew all along, and you never told me?” he cried, betrayed and hurt.

Petunia, face pinched, sneered, “Of  _ course  _ we knew. How could you not be? My  _ perfect _ sister, being who she was. Oh, my mother and father were so  _ proud  _ the day she got her letter. ‘We have a witch in the family. Isn't it  _ wonderful _ ?’ I was the only one to see her for what she was. A  _ freak _ !”

Potter visibly quivered.

Draco watched it all unfold with dark eyes.

“And then she met that  _ Potter _ , and then she had you, and I knew you'd be just the same. Just as strange, just as ...  _ abnormal _ . And then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up! And we got landed with you.”

Potter gaped. “Blown  _ up _ ? You told me it was a bloody car accident!”

Both of Draco’s eyebrows rose. “Excuse me? The great James and Lily Potter? Taken out by muggle  _ vehicles _ ?”

“It matters  _ not _ !” the man hollered. “He'll not be going!”

Draco smiled darkly. “Oh, and I suppose a great Muggle like yourself is going to stop me, are you?” He laughed, and Vernon’s eyes flickered unsurely around the room before relanding resolutely on the intruder.

The man began puffing up to spout some more nonsense, but Draco raised an hand to silence him.

The previous smile had dropped, and Draco’s voice turned dangerous. Deep and smooth, like velvet. “Look here, old man,” he seethed. “This isn’t some vicious attack on your family, or worse, some fairytail. This is real life. Grow the  _ fuck  _ up,” he barked the word, and the Muggles flinched. “Discuss with me, like an adult, why you so desire to keep Harry Potter here with you. He clearly elicits in you both nothing more than irritation and pain. What will you lose by allowing me to take him off your plate? Stubborn pride? Don’t,” Draco smiled, “make me  _ laugh _ .”

The Dursley's stared at him, lips parted. Vernon’s chest was heaving, and Petunia’s small hands were clenched into tight fists turned white from faulty circulation. 

“ _ Take him _ ,” she finally hissed, eyes narrowed to slits. Her words were cutting, meant to hurt, and her voice sharp. “ _ We. Don’t. Want. Him. Here.” _

Draco regarded her with disdain. “You disgust me,” he informed her, and when vernon, the loyal mutt he was, looked ready to say something snappy to that, the blond quelled him immediately with an icy glare. “Pathetic,” he repeated, and turned on his heel.

“Potter,” he called, striding past the shellshocked boy, not looking back. 

He waited outside. It was seventeen seconds later that Potter opened the door, slowly, slowly, and stared at the blond boy sitting at his doorstep.

Draco quirked his lips up in a half-arsed attempt at a smile. “Ready?” he asked, voice quiet.

Potter shut the door behind himself quietly, and then stepped out and down the steps so he stood next to the blond. He nodded. His eyes were red, glassy, and his nose was red, twitching, but Draco didn’t show any sign of noticing.

“Excellent,” the blond replied, tone neutral as he reached into his bag and yanked out his broom. They mounted it and took off silently.

It was silent for nearly an hour until, slowly, slowly, Potter pressed into him. Not like he was holding on, or like when he’d been scared after the initial lift off. No, Potter pressed into him like he was falling into bed, like he was falling into all that would support him. And Potter cried. At first, quietly, just little sniffles and shaking against the blond’s back, but then it was loud, and ugly, and Potter made noises as if he were dying. He sobbed. He choked. He wheezed and he gagged. Potter nuzzled his face into Draco’s back for support, and when he wasn’t vaulted off the broom, he nuzzled more, and gripped the sweatshirt harder, soaking it through with snot and tears and drool, but Draco didn’t comment. Draco didn’t do anything but fly smoothly, slowly, and offer his physical warmth in place of warm words he wouldn’t have the skill or experience to deliver, anyway.

And he listened to Potter. He listened to the noises, the little mumbles between sniffles and the garble between wails. 

And he kept on flying.

When Potter seemed to have sufficiently cried himself out, like a child, he fell asleep.

It was with utmost caution and precision that Draco, while flying with one hand, used the other to gently maneuver Potter’s arms around his waist as to prevent an accidental drop-off mid flight. He didn’t bother considering how Potter would feel about such familiar actions, because in the morning, they would be at Hogwarts.

And Potter would be home.

* * *

“You go to school in a  _ castle _ ?”

Draco smirked. “Wait until you see the dining hall.”

“Malfoy!” A new voice hollered.

“Ah, shit.”

Potter glanced around a grimacing blond to see a young girl with bushy hair and dusky skin approaching swiftly.

“Where have you  _ been _ ?” she hissed.

“Granger,” Draco sighed, “nice to see you as well.”

“You’ve missed out on so many classes! You missed out on  _ teaching  _ so many defense classes! How is Neville ever going to reach his full potential if you aren’t there to help him along with the Dark Arts?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Longbottom doesn’t need me to ‘help him along,’ he needs to pull his head from his arse and realize we’re at  _ war _ .”

“ _ What _ ?” Potter asked, voice high.

“Oh, right,” the blond murmured, stepping aside. “Granger, this is Harry Potter, the second Chosen One. Potter, this is Hermione Granger, the most know-it-all of the Gryffindors. And possibly the Ravenclaws, if I’m honest.”

Granger’s eyes were wide. “Harry... Potter?”

“Son of Lily and James Potter,” Draco assured.

“Erm, nice to meet you?” Potter asked.

Granger flushed and held out a hand. “O-of course! Pleasure to meet you as well, ah, Harry. You’re... Where have you—Where has he been?” Granger asked Draco, voice weak. “All this time...”

“With Muggles,” Draco said. “He knows nothing of magic nor the war, as of yet, so let’s introduce him to the wonders of Hogwarts slowly, yeah?”

Granger gaped. “ _ Nothing _ ? And you think he can  _ save  _ us?”

Draco turned to regard Potter, who watched him with wide, lost eyes. But Potter trusted him. And Draco trusted his gut, which told him that Potter was what they needed.

“I think he’s the one,” Draco said simply.

“Well,” Granger began, voice sarcastic, “if  _ you  _ think he’s the one, he must be!”

Draco smiled, and it was genuine. “I agree wholeheartedly, Granger. Just look at him. Full of potential.”

Granger threw her hands in the air. “He’s a novice! Not even that, he’s practically Muggle! We don't have  _ time  _ to teach him-”

“Then we’ll make time,” Draco cut her off primly.

“You’re betting your life on it?” Granger snapped.

“Absolutely.”

Granger opened her mouth, all geared up to yell some more indignities, but paused. She eyed him, really looked at him, as if to gauge his sincerity. “You trust him that much?”

Draco looked at Potter. “I do. I think he’s the one.”

Granger finally turned to regard Potter as well. He flushed and twiddled his fingers beneath her inscrutable gaze, but she seemed to see something as well, because her next words were thoughtful. “I suppose he  _ does  _ has powerful blood in his veins, being a Potter and all,” she conceded. “Does the Headmaster know?”

“He’s the one who permitted me to go all the way to Little Whinging to get him,” Draco said. “Of course he knows.”

“And you really think he’s the one,” Granger asked again.

“Don’t you?” Draco asked, turning to her.

Granger stared at him, baffled, and then turned back to Potter. She squinted at him, tilted her head. “I don’t see it.”

Draco shrugged. “You will,” he assured. “Now, Potter, come along. I’m going to introduce you to Albus Dumbledore.”

Potter hastened out a jumbled farewell to Granger, who continued eyeing him speculatively as they continued further down the corridor.

Potter was silent for a while until, “What was that about?”

Draco glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Potter admitted, “but it sounded an awful lot like you were trusting your life in... me.”

“I am,” Draco said.

Potter stared at him. “Why?”

“Because you trusted me,” Draco said simply.

“What?”

Draco stopped walking to turn fully to Potter. “You’ve lived your whole life in Little Whinging, right?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve had magic all along. You’ve known you were different, unique, but you didn’t know how, or why. You must have felt alone, since you didn’t have any friends, or any significant familial bonds. You must have considered yourself a right freak, didn’t you?”

Potter flinched at the word, but nodded meekly.

“And then I show up,” Draco continued, voice soft, but fierce, “and I tell you I’m a bloody wizard. I’m casting unknown spells at teachers, I’m breaking you out of your classes and kidnapping you from your home, but you trusted me, anyway. Because you want to believe in magic, right? Because you want to believe that there’s a better life out there, and you were willing to risk anything, even trusting my questionable self, in order to get there. That, Harry Potter, is called courage. Do you know how many people have that?”

Potter frowned at him a bit. “A lot?”

“Not that kind of courage. Not, ‘I’ll trust this strange guide and abandon all I know as true, because I  _ want _ this to be true,’ courage. Maybe it was stupid of you, if I’m honest, but I’m impressed nonetheless, because I know I never could have. I’m not that strong. And you know what the best part is?”

“What?”

“Anyone can be courageous. Anyone.”

Potter flushed bright red, obviously flattered, but his eyes were enlightened. Awed. “I’m not that strong either,” he murmured.

“Of course you are. You stepped up to the plate.” Draco slugged him in the arm, laughing when Potter scowled at him for it. “If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

“Do  _ what _ ?” Potter stressed.

Draco stared at him, wondering if now was the time to explain. He shook his head. “Dumbledore will explain.”

“No, I want to hear it from you.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t know this Bumble-door guy, I know you, Draco. Tell me what this is all about.”

Draco hesitated. “I don’t want to scare you off,” he stalled, looking around the abandoned hall for some kind of distraction.

“I’m already here. I can’t go back, anyway.”

Draco winced. Shit. He'd forgotten about that. “I can erase their memories of ever kicking you out-”

“But  _ I’ll  _ know what they’re really thinking,” Potter grit out. “I can’t go back to living like that. I... I have a friend now,” he mumbled, ducking his head and flushing a bit. “I can’t go back to living like that,” he repeated, with feeling.

Draco looked around the hall. “Did you befriend Granger that quickly?” he asked.

Potter gave a light kick to the blond’s shin, scowling, but still rosy cheeked. “Arse. Take responsibility for what you’ve done. Tell me.”

“Well-”

“Malfoy?” a new voice called. “Who’s this?”

“Ah, wonderful! Potter, meet Pansy Parkinson!”

Parkinson eyed the new boy dubiously. “This is him? The boy you went all the way to the Muggle realm to retrieve?”

Draco glanced at Potter. 

Potter glanced back at him.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Are you just going to take that?”

“What?”

“I'm insulting you,” Pansy assured, voice a slow drawl, “and I don't even know you.”

Potter, slowly, replied, “Don't... do that?”

Pansy gaped at Draco. “And you think  _ this  _ is going to save us?” She gestured to Potter obviously.

“I'm used to comments like that,” Potter interrupted, looking at the blond quickly, as if for confirmation.

Draco tilted his head a bit.

“So, things like that don't really offend me anymore,” Potter continued. “If I replied, however, you would have thought you'd gotten to me.”

Pansy seemed to deem this an acceptable excuse. “Well, alright,” she said. “You're not a total deadbeat,” she conceded. 

Potter smiled. “I agree wholeheartedly.”

Draco blinked. That sounded familiar.

Pansy, impressed by the attitude—as was Pansy—grinned and stuck out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Harry Potter. Pansy Parkinson, at your service. Don't be a stranger.” She winked and sauntered off. As was Pansy.

The two boys looked at each other.

“Is there anyone else I should prepare myself for?” Potter asked.

Draco smirked. “Expect the unexpected, Potter.”

* * *

Draco sauntered into the dining hall more from soreness and exhaustion than swagger, which was unusual for him, but not entirely unheard of. It was, however, worth immediate notice from the Slytherin table who promptly made room for him next to his squad—Pansy, Blaise, Greg and Vince.

Blaise eyed him silently only until the blond seated himself, then mercilessly began in on his questioning. “Well? Where's this savior you've been promising everyone?”

“With Dumbledore,” Draco muttered, burying his head in his crossed arms. “Salazar, will you give me five minutes of rest, at least?”

Blaise ignored this plea. “Is he?”

Draco groaned in annoyance.

“Our Savior,” Greg clarified helpfully.

Draco peered up at him balefully before conceding, “Not yet. Not in the least. But, I believe he'll get there eventually.”

Pansy butt in, this time. “Eventually? We've only months, if even that, darling.”

Draco shrugged, resting his eyes. “I trust him,” he said.

The group fell silent, fully aware of the depth of his words.

“Well then,” Blaise murmured, “we have reason to hope.”

“That, we do,” Pansy agreed.

The Great Hall fell in a sudden hush.

Draco peered up to see none other than Dumbledore, McGonagall, and one Harry Potter in the entrance way.

“Students,” McGonagall called, “if we may have your attention, please.” As if she didn't already have it. “We would like to welcome Mr Potter to our school. If you all would treat him to a warm welcome, that would be much appreciated.”

The room broke out in whispers and murmurs.

Draco absentmindedly wondered if McGonagall was the brains to the operation and Dumbledore was merely the face, watching as the old man just stood there and smiled, but knew better than to underestimate the lackadaisical headmaster.

Potter, however, Draco knew not to overestimate. The boy looked ready to faint, so red was his visage.

“Potter!” Draco hollered, catching the boy's attention.

Potter wilted with relief before scurrying over.

More whispers were heard, but Draco ignored them as he shoved at Vince until the grunting oaf scooted over a seat.

Potter sat next to him, and Draco smiled.

“How was it?” he asked, turning to give the brunette his undivided attention.

Potter looked just as exhausted as Draco felt. “A lot. I don't know how I feel about any of it yet,” he admitted, sounding guilty, “but I like it here so far. Everyone's been very nice.”

“And you're sure it was Draco who's been leading you about?” Blaise asked. “Him? Nice?”

“I'm a pleasure, Zabini,” Draco purred, “even if you haven't been blessed enough to witness it.”

“I've known you since we were in nappies, and you're trying to tell me you haven't showed me your good side yet.”

“I think that says more about your character than mine,” Draco jeered.

Pansy snickered as Blaise flipped him off.

“I'm Vince,” Vince introduced abruptly, sticking his hand out to a startled Potter. “Sorry ‘bout that, I tend to get a bit distracted when I eat.”

Potter smiled shyly. “Harry. Nice to meet you.”

“Harry,” Greg repeated, also shaking his hand. “So that's what your name is.”

Potter shrugged. “Everyone keeps calling me ‘Mr Potter’ or ‘sir’.”

“It's considered polite to address those you aren't close to by their surnames until you're given permission to address them as otherwise,” Pansy explained. “That's why Draco calls you Potter, though I'm sure he makes it seem more like an insult than blandishments.”

Potter looked at the blond with surprise. “Is that true?”

“That, and ‘Potty’ is such a sweet endearment, honestly.”

Potter frowned a it. “Should I call you... What's your last name, again?”

The entirety of the Slytherin table snickered.

“By the end of the week,” Blaise said gravely, “you will know the name Malfoy.”

“Malfoy?” Potter asked.

Draco smirked. “Yes?”

Potter made a face. “But Draco is such a nice name.”

The tips of the blond’s ears pinkened, but otherwise there was no show of flattery. “Yes, well, I suppose you can continue to call me Draco in private, but in public, it would probably be best if we pretend we don't like each other.”

“What?” Potter asked, startled.

“What?” the others in the group repeated.

“Well,” Draco began, “Slytherin has a bit of a stigma for Dark Magic since it's my role to assist in combat training, of course, but also because I share Malfoy as well as Black Dark Magic with the Savior in training. Already people are up in arms about teaching the Savior dark magic, and if Potter acts too friendly with me, people might think he's more susceptible to corruption or something,” Draco explained.

“That's stupid,” Potter said.

“Humans are stupid,” Draco said. “I'm just ensuring your comfort, Potter. We can still paint our nails and braid our hair in the comfort of seclusion, if you so wish.”

“Don't be an arse,” Pansy reprimanded him lightly, “he obviously likes you,” she said.

Potter turned the brightest red he had yet. “ _ What _ ?” Potter squeaked, voice unnaturally high.

Draco’s eyebrows lowered, confusion marring his features. “Yes, well, I like him too, but that doesn't change the fact that others don't see me as a wonderful friend, but a conniving snake. It's best for his image.”

Pansy turned to Potter, expression unimpressed. “He's clueless,” she told Potter, sounding apologetic.

Draco frowned. “Who’s clueless? Doesn't this make sense?”

Potter nodded rapidly. “No, yeah, that makes sense,” he agreed hastily, then slowed a bit, face cooling as he sadly asked, “but we can still... be friends in secret?”

“Sure,” Draco agreed. “In the meantime, I'm sure Granger could use a friend.”

Potter perked up at that. “Yeah?”

Draco felt an odd twinge. He could very easily imagine life with Potter and Granger, side by side, causing all kinds of ruckus. It was similar to deja vu, but mixed with a sense of foreboding.

“Why are you assuming he'll be a Gryffindor?” Blaise asked, distracting the blond from his thoughts.

“He's courageous,” Draco said simply. “If he isn't Gryffindor, then I don't know who would be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who wanted more Draco-in-the-Muggle-realm... don't stress.  
> A) You should like the next chapter then.  
> B) This story doesn't revolve around going back-and-forth between realms, but there will be a few scenes here and there bc _I_ like it, so like, don't stressss
> 
> Thanks for all the comments :P  
> I always love to hear what you guys liked/want to see more of.


	3. 3

As Draco predicted, Potter and Granger got along swimmingly. Potter somehow managed to pick up Weasley trash along the way, and the three were known as something of a trio.

Draco was civil to them all because, as annoying as he found Granger and as pathetic as he found the weasel, they were decent kids. Though, in order to communicate with Potter about training without giving away their friendliness, he was forced to do things like physically bump into the other boy. Or, once they had pretended to get into a heated argument—the Potter and Malfoy the school knew didn't get along at all—and got all up in each other's faces, grabbing robes to yank the other closer, and that had been a perfect opportunity to growl a quick sentence or two.

Draco had felt that yelling at Potter was a little over the top—they didn't need to  _ hate  _ each other, they just couldn't get along—, but at the meeting that evening, Potter had admitted to liking the fighting better. “Less bruises from bumping into you,” he had supplied awkwardly. “And, Ron thinks you hate me anyway. No one believes all the bumping is accidental, Draco.”

And that had been that. Their meetings, however, became very habitual after Potter settled into school, so they didn't need to argue to discuss new meeting times and places after a while. Only occasionally, just to keep up the pretense, though Potter seemed to find particular glee in goading Draco just for the sake of it. 

Draco didn't mind. He loved acting, being as dramatic as he was, and he loved making fun of Potter because he was just that kind of friend. However, he did feel that, between balancing time with Granger and Weasley, having secret meetings with Dumbledore that he refused to tell Draco about, and going to classes during the day and training with other professors at night, Potter didn't get to hang out with him very much. Which, to a degree, was expected—they were at war. This was important. Draco brought him to Hogwarts to be trained, not to be friends.

But that didn't mean Draco didn't miss him. Turns out, Draco liked Potter more than he thought he would. Best friend material, really, only they spent so little time together, and Potter was only growing closer and closer to Granger and Weasley, and he liked to chat and laugh with Draco, but otherwise showed to signs of wanting to hang out on, say, school vacations between training sessions. Draco feared Potter didn't feel the same way, so he didn't say anything about it. He just... took to concerning habits like watching Potter whenever he could.

Pansy said he was pining, but it wasn't that. Blaise said he was jealous of Weasley and Granger, but it wasn't really that, either. He wasn't in bloody love with Potter, and he didn't necessarily want Potter by his side, 24/7. He just felt.. protective. And maybe a little underappreciated. In fact, very much so. He didn't like the thought that his feelings were unrequited, and it made him crabby and even more possessive over the boy he'd saved than before, but he would never act on these impulses, nor would he say anything, because this is what the school needed. This is what the wizarding world needed. But, most importantly, this is what Potter needed. He finally had friends, and he was learning about the magic he had feared for so long, and he was popular, and he was growing stronger physically and mentally, and he was eating better, and he was dressing better, and, overall, this Potter was far superior to the old one.

But the old one was Draco's. Bobbing along by Draco's side, showing Draco his emotional side and his curiosities. This Potter was busy with other responsibilities, with other classes, and with other people. This Potter didn't feel the same void that Draco did, as though Potter was  _ meant  _ to be by his side. This Potter didn't need Draco anymore.

Draco sighed.

He was depressing himself again.

“Tired?” Potter asked, sitting on the desk next to his.

“Yes,” Draco mumbled, eyes fluttering shut. “I don't know how you do it.”

Potter laughed. “I don't, really. I sort of just do what people tell me to do, and then fall into bed every night. I wake up, and then I'm following orders again.”

Draco sighed once more. “Sounds tiring.”

“It is.”

“Then don't talk about it,” he snapped. “I'm sleepy enough, and we still have half an hour of your physical training before we can move onto practicing your Dark Magic.”

Potter was silent for a bit, and Draco peeked an eye open to gauge his expression.

Potter seemed to be mulling something over, staring unseeingly at the blackboard in the front of the room. It was blank, of course, because the classrooms in this wing of the school weren’t in use. There was too high of a chance some rebellious first year would stumble upon one of their after-class training sessions otherwise.

“Then, let's take a break for a while,” the brunette finally suggested. “We can work twice as hard tomorrow.”

Draco groaned at the mere thought of the consequences, but knew he was in no shape to spar with Potter. “Yes, that... that sounds fine,” he conceded.

Potter smiled. “‘Course it does. I suggested it, didn't I?”

“Yes, yes, you're so very clever,” Draco drawled, giving into temptation and sprawling across the desk. He stared at the ceiling, blinking slowly with exhaustion. He hadn't actually been feeling all that tired until Potter brought it up, but now, he almost felt like he couldn't fight it.

He blinked, surprised, to suddenly notice Potter leaning over him, expression curious.

“You should get to bed early tonight,” Potter suggested.

Draco made a face. “That sounds wonderful, Potty, except that I have three essays to get a start on and three chapters of Potions to read.”

Potter frowned. “Those essays aren't due until, like, next month.”

“And I'll be even more tired then. The earlier I finish them, the less work I'll have to do over break. And, the earlier I can go to sleep, yeah?”

Potter scoffed. “You sound like Hermione.”

“Yes, well, Granger does get good grades, doesn't she?” Draco squinted at the ceiling.

“Only the best,” Potter agreed gravely.

“Thought so. You should take a page from her book.” Draco poked Potter in the side, and with a dramatic sigh, the boy laid down next to blond, their sides nearly touching.

They were quiet for a while.

“How are you?” Draco asked quietly.

“What do you mean?” Potter asked back, just as quiet.

“I feel like...” Draco bit his lip. He wasn't one for being emotional and sharing his feelings or any such rot, but this was important to him. “I feel like, lately, we haven't really spoken? Which is selfish of me, considering you have so much on your plate, but, well, I'm kind of a selfish bloke, and I'm the type to flourish under attention, you see. Harping on you in class in fun and all, but I do actually care how you did on the astrology test, or whether I've said something that genuinely offends you. But then, by the time we meet at the end of the day, that sort of thing is a little far from our minds, yeah?”

Potter propped himself up on his elbows to peer down at Draco. “Honestly?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“I feel like I'm dreaming,” Potter admitted. “I'm in a school of magic, for one. For another, I have friends. Like, people  _ actually _ want to see me every day,” Potter said, eyes wide. He sounded genuinely awed, and flattered, and  _ this _ was the Potter Draco missed, the one he rarely saw anymore. “And it's fun. I mean, math is a bloody elective. And I don't much like the essays and all, but to be honest, a foot of parchment is, like, less than a two page essay. They aren't too bad, but in addition to my training and all, I don't appreciate them as much as I could.”

Draco listened hungrily, though was careful not to show how he eager he was for Potter’s attention—for Potter to treat him like a confidant once more.

“And I miss you,” Potter said, ducking his head, and Draco admired the way his messy hair swayed, each layer a different length, curled in a different direction. “I've felt the same way, but I know you're just as busy as I am.”

Draco’s chest felt tight, like a balloon about to burst. Potter also missed him.

But, as was Draco, he played it cool. He'd opened up enough today.

He scoffed. “No one is as busy as you are,” he teased, “but I appreciate you telling me so. Do you ever miss... your aunt and uncle? Your cousin?”

Potter smiled at him a little. “You know, you're the only one who’s been gutsy enough to ask me that.”

Draco winked. “Leave it to me to be the blunt one.”

Potter nudged him. “You're not tactless,” he assured, “you know me. It's... it's okay, when it's you.”

Draco felt his chest fill up again. It felt filled to the brim with something, something airy and warm, like sunlight.

“But the answer is yes. I like it here— _ love _ it here. I never want to leave. But I miss the calm, I guess. I miss mundane morning walks in the park, and feeding the ducks. I kind of miss my room, too. My stuff. There isn't much, since they just gave it to me after my fifteenth birthday, but I like it, anyway. But also... that's not who I am anymore.”

“You've changed,” Draco agreed, “but you don't come off as a pack rat. I'm sure that anything you kept in your room held some sort of sentimental value. It's good to look back on who you used to be, sometimes. It shows you how far you've come.”

“Yeah,” Potter agreed, thoughtful. “I suppose.”

“Would you ever want to go back? And get your stuff, I mean.”

“I don't think I could,” Potter admitted quietly.

Draco knew what he was doing that weekend.

* * *

“This is insane,” Nott hissed as he tugged his hood further down his face. “I can’t believe you’re actually doing this.”

“We, Theo,” Draco corrected distractedly, aiming his wand at the window. “You can't believe  _ we're _ doing this.”

“Why am I even here?” the brunette hissed. “Why do you always invite me on your insane escapades?”

“Pansy and Blaise said no, and Greg and Vince are idiots,” Draco replied simply. “ _ Alohomora _ .”

“So you asked everyone else  _ first _ ?” Theodore hissed, voice high with incredulity.

Draco pouted at him. “You weren't my  _ last  _ choice, Theo. I would have asked Vince if you said no, too. Now, boost me up.”

Nott opened and closed his mouth a few times in aborted attempts at articulating his irritation, then settled with a tight, “You expect me to boost you up to that window when we both brought our brooms?”

“After my last trip down here, McGrouch banned me from flying within twenty yards of muggles. It's too obvious in such a little town.”

“Yes, well, I can't vault you all the way up there, either, so you're going to have to come up with another plan, smart guy.”

Draco ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Did you see a car in the driveway? Maybe they aren't even home.”

Nott shrugged, and they both trekked around to the front of the house. There wasn't a car to be seen.

“Brilliant.” Draco grinned.

“Brilliant,” Nott parroted, rolling his eyes. “You're going to get us in trouble.”

“You can pretend you ditched me after dropping me off, like last time,” Draco permitted, nose raised.

“I wasn't  _ allowed _ to come with you last time,” Theodore whined. “I don't know the kind of dangerous spells that you do. They wouldn’t allow you out here either, if you were a mere student.”

“Yes, well,” Draco said simply. He led them up the driveway.

“Actually,” Nott began, voice curious, “I was wondering why they allowed me to accompany you on this mission. Isn't it even more secretive than the last?”

“They, uh, didn't,” Draco mumbled.

“ _ What _ ! And you brought me, anyway?” he cried.

“Us, Theo. I brought us. I didn't ask permission at all. I just came.”

“ _ What! _ ” Theodore screeched, face pale.

“ _ Quiet _ , or you'll really get us in trouble,” Draco commanded before pivoting towards the door. “ _ Alohomora _ ,” he cast, and then walked in. Draco couldn't remember the Dursleys having any pets the last time, so he didn't fear any barking giving them away as they crept down the hall.

It was something else entirely.

Rather, someone.

“Um?” someone asked, and before even turning around, Nott released a wail and hunkered down into a bow, his forehead practically on the floor as he plead pathetically for their lives.

“We’re so fucking sorry!” he promised. “We won't do it again! In fact, we’re—we’re drunk! We were just leaving! We're blind-”

Draco kicked him. “What kind of Slytherin are you? Just use your damn wand-”

The person, now identified as a young man, stiffened, mouth ceasing around his protein bar. “Wizards?” he asked, voice faint. “Oh, shit,” he said, and looked prepared to bolt.

“Oh, no you don't,” Draco growled, drawing his wand in the blink of an eye. “Move, and I'll stun you so badly you won't be moving for a week.”

Nott, thankfully, didn't call the blond out on his bluff, merely trembling where he sat.

The boy raised his arms and dropped the snack quickly, as if trying to show he held no weapons.

“Wait, wait, wait!” the teen Draco slowly registered as Dudley Dursley stuttered. “You're the ones who took Harry, aren't you?”

“He was,” Theodore sniffled, pointing at the blond.

When Draco whipped his head to glare at him, Theo cowered further.

“Y-you can have whatever you want!” Dudley insisted. “I may not have been a good cousin, but I don't hate Harry like my parents do. I... I'm glad you took him to wizard-land, or wherever, if he's happier there. I know he sure as hell wasn't, here.”

Slowly, eyes narrowed, Draco lowered his wand. “You didn't put up much of a fight at all,” he noted skeptically.

“Because I'm not lying,” Dudley replied gruffly, bending down to pick up his protein bar once more. “Harry’s a good kid.”

Draco ran an appreciative eye over the rather toned teen, wondering whether he should trust him or not. “Then we'll be taking what we need and leaving,” Draco announced. “Speak to anyone of this encounter, and you'll wake up one morning without any memories at all.”

Dudley eyed him, as if unsure whether or not he should actually feel threatened. Draco raised both eyebrows, as if daring him to say otherwise, and Dudley nodded. “Alright, fine. Just be quick. My parents will be back in an hour, the earliest.”

Draco nodded once, swiftly, and then spun on his heel and flew up the stairs. Theodore scrambled after him, and when they were in the safety of the more sparsely decorated room—likely Potter’s—they released a breath of relief.

“Well,” Draco began, “that could have gone worse.”

“Are you kidding me!” Nott exploded. “We could get in serious trouble for this! Not only did we sneak out of school, but we were seen by a Muggle, and we threatened one! After  _ breaking into his home _ !”

“It's technically still Potter’s home, and he practically invited me, so no, we didn't break in. We just... surprised him, a little. And he won't tell. Who  _ would _ he tell? No one will believe him.”

Nott ran a hand down his face. “Draco, how have you not been suspended yet?”

Draco shrugged. “My dad’s on Dumbledore’s good side, and my Mum is terrifying.”

“That, she is,” Theodore agreed. “Anyway, let's get on with this. What do we need?”

Draco opened his bag and began dumping things in. Action figures—Potter was such a nerd—books, folders, note pads, and other such memorabilia. He saw some picture frames and grabbed those, spelled off some posters and packed those as well. He went through Potter’s dresser and dragged out the clothing that looked the most worn—even for Potter—and then went into the boy’s closet.

“These are hideous,” Nott sneered, lifting a pair of shoes. “It's as if he's worn them for seventy years without a wash or repair.”

Draco, not wanting to get into it with Theodore, simply shrugged. “Well, dump them in.”

“No, no, look at this,” Theodore insisted. “Even these little gel-like spots on the bottom are supposed to be translucent, but they're practically black. I bet if we spell away some of the dirt, Potter will appreciate it more, wouldn't he?”

Draco considered it. “I don't think they can handle such a thorough  _ scourgify _ , to be honest, and besides. Potter is a wizard now. He can do it himself, if he so wishes.”

“Come on, Draco. It's the thoughtfulness of  _ scourgifying _ them for him, not the action of doing so. Of course he could do it himself, but wouldn't it mean more if you did?”

Draco worried his lip between his teeth. “Maybe?” he conceded.

Nott smiled and held the ratty trainers as if on display.

When Draco cast, however...

“Shit.”

“Well, we tried,” Nott said simply. “Just cast a-”

“I know, I know.  _ Reparo _ .”

The frayed cloth and strings tried to reconnect themselves, but the magic was too much for the old shoes. With a wimpy squeal from the rubber, the cloth fluttered before falling limply.

“Shit,” Draco repeated.

Nott began to panic again. “Oh, no, no, no, we did  _ not  _ just destroy the Savior of the Wizarding World’s shoes. W-we can just pretend we were never planning to bring them at all!” Nott tried. “Y-You know. Just don't bring them up! He’ll never know!”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “And  _ now  _ you're Slytherin? But for the record, I don't break things without replacing them. I'm not poor, you ponce. We’ll simply go out and get him some more.”

Nott slumped with relief. “Thank Merlin. I thought you were going to go off on one of your strange misadventures again.”

Draco raised an eyebrow as he re-clasped the bag holding most of Potter’s belongings. Outwardly, of course, the bag appeared nothing more than a light backpack.

Nott followed him out of the room, talking as he went. “Like to the Wishing Well of Mímir, or to find the bloody Elder’s Wand.”

“First of all,” Draco began as they made their way down the stairs, “Mímir's Well was for infinite wisdom, not wishes. Second of all, we’re not going to Grindelwald's tomb to get the Elder Wand. We’re going shopping for another pair of Muggle shoes.”

Theodore stopped walking to stare at the back of Draco’s departing head. “What?”

“Muggle shoes. Trainers. We’re getting him a pair.”

Theodore blinked at him slowly. “Do you have muggle money?”

Draco shrugged. “Potter had some bills stuffed in a few pockets of his pants. I’ll reimburse for that as well, of course.”

“You’re kidding me.”

Draco smiled.

Nott scrambled after him when Draco reached the bottom of the steps. “D’you think that will be enough to pay for shoes?”

Draco shrugged again. “He deserves new ones. I’ll do what I have to.”

“Legally,” Nott said. “You’ll do whatever you can, legally.”

Draco smirked darkly, and then they were nearing the door.

“Should I expect you guys back?” Dudley called, entering the room a few seconds after. He looked nervous, but no longer fearful.

“No,” Nott assured.

“Perhaps,” Draco corrected.

Dudley regarded him for a moment before nodding again.

“Hey, Dudley,” Draco began, because calling him Dursley at this point would be an insult to the rather calm teen. “You wouldn’t happen to know how much a pair of Muggle trainers would cost, would you?”

“Muggle?” Dudley asked, reclining against the wall.

“Non-magical. From around here, I mean. How much should I expect a pair to cost.”

“It really depends on how nice of a pair you’re going for.”

“A nice pair,” Draco replied.

Dudley stared at him. He sighed. “Look, give me your phone and I’ll lend you my number. Just text me the shoes and I’ll tell you the price, if you really aren’t sure.”

Draco smiled. “I don’t have a ‘fone’, and to be frank, we don’t have much Muggle money. I will, of course, reimburse you as soon as I get to a wizarding bank.”

Dudley stared at him. When the blond raised his eyebrows and began tapping a foot impatiently, he groaned. “You wizards are a hassle, you know that?”

Draco hiked up one shoulder, peering out through his pale, fluttering lashes. “Your assistance is much appreciated. Have I mentioned how charming you look in that jersey, by the way?”

Dudley rolled his eyes and turned around. “Hold on a second, let me grab my keys. I don’t trust you two enough to let you out in the normal world.”

Draco shrugged.

Theodore was practically sobbing with relief. He didn’t trust Draco, either.

* * *

Draco peered at the shoes. “These are similar to the pair we ruined, but they don’t look very... Potter-esque, do they?”

Dudley peered over the blond’s shoulder. “I don’t recall Harry being very picky about his shoes.”

“What about these!” Theodore called, scampering over with a box. Inside were a pair of black shoes, nothing like the white(?) pair Potter previously owned. These were glossy and sleek.

“What about them?” Draco asked.

“They glow up!”

“In the dark?” Draco inquired, curious.

“No, you stomp,” Dudley piped in. “When you stomp down, they light up. But they’re kids shoes.”

“But they glow up,” Draco said.

Dudley stared at him. “For kids,” he repeated.

Naturally, Draco tried them on. And he kept them on. He stomped his way up to the counter, flashing lights all the way, and waited there primly until Dudley, expression a mixture of disbelieving an amused, paid for them. Only after did they find a suitable pair for Potter.

Of course, this wasn’t the end of the shopping trip. Oh, no, Draco liked to shop.

Dudley followed the blond’s line of sight and gulped. “Are you sure you can afford all of this?” he asked faintly.

“Of course,” Draco assured flippantly.

“He’s rich,” Nott assured.

“Rich?” Dudley echoed. “Well, alright then.”

And after shopping for clothes, they went out to eat. They passed a few questionable stores on the way, all of which were adorned with just as questionable posters.

“What does BDSM mean?” Draco asked.

“Bible Discussion and Study Meeting,” Dudley replied.

Then, on Draco’s way to buy a cellphone, just so he could have one—“None of our friends will have one, Theo, of course I need it.”—, they passed a marvelous contraption that distracted Draco from his objective only momentarily.

“How much for the horse tornado?” he asked.

“That’s a carousel,” Dudley said.

“I must have it.”

Dudley pushed him along.

They purchased the phone, and even then, there was still more shopping to go.

“These pants make my arse look fantastic,” Draco decided.

“They’re for women,” Dudley groaned, looking mortified. His face was bright red, and he ducked it in very Potter-esque fashion whenever a female walked passed them.

“Where are the pockets?” Draco asked, attempting to peel back the deceptive material.

“They don’t have any,” Dudley muttered, “they’re just for show.”

“Fake pockets?” Theodore asked, shocked. “Malarkey.”

“Where am I supposed to put my small, pocket-sized, personal items?” Draco asked.

Dudley ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, I didn’t make them. They’re womens pants, you’re supposed to have a purse, I guess.”

“Why would they assume-” Nott began.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. You’re wizards, right? Just fix them!”

Draco sniffed. “For the price I’m paying, I shouldn’t  _ have  _ to fix them.”

“So you’re not buying them?” Dudley asked dryly.

“... I didn’t say that.”

And then there was more shopping, and a trip to the barber, and one last trip to the food court.

Three hours later found Nott shoving all of the clothing bags into their ‘school bag’ while Draco sat on the curb, feet on a skateboard and gently rolling it from side to side as he sipped on his arizona green tea and adjusted his sunglasses. The fringe of his undercut just peaked out of his beanie to frame his face.

“Alright, time for you two to go,” Dudley said, tucking his cellphone back into his pocket.

“Thank Merlin,” Theodore sighed.

“So soon?” Draco whined.

“I have to get home soon, and even if you’re rich, Draco, I am not,” Dudley assured. “I’ll expect reimbursement promptly, yeah? I hate to be that guy, but I don’t have this kind of money to throw around.”

Draco stood up, kicked away the skateboard—“Where did you even get that?” Dudley asked as Theodore dutifully, knowing better than to ask questions, shoved it in the bag—and saluted to Dudley. “I swear on my name,” he promised.

Dudley sighed. “Yeah, yeah. Get in the car and I’ll bring you guys back to my house so you can teleport home, or whatever.”

“Well fly on brooms,” Theodore said. “Unless you have your floo connected.”

“My what?”

“Is your fireplace connected to the floo network?” Theodore asked.

“You know what? I don’t care. Both of you, in the car.”

They piled in.

There was silence for a while.

“So... How’s Harry?” Dudley asked quietly.

“Great,” Draco said, voice just as soft, genuine. “He’s loving it there.”

“And how is it... there?”

“Great,” Draco repeated.

“Are there, like... vampires, and stuff?” Dudley asked, eyes briefly flickering from the road to the blond in the passenger seat. Nott napped in the back.

“Absolutely.”

“Are they dangerous?” Dudley was quick to ask, next.

Draco smiled. He was worried. “Some are, some aren’t. Some are doctors. They can smell blood diseases and such.”

“Ah,” Dudley acknowledged. “And, like, dragons?”

Draco rolled his eyes, but he was still amused. “Yes. Yes, we have dragons.”

“And how do they breathe fire, exactly?”

“Well,” Draco began, “there are three variants of dragons. One of them possesses a gland that produces a liquid which spontaneously combusts when coming into contact with oxygen.”

“Sick,” Dudley said. “Magic sure is something, isn’t it.”

Draco stared at him bizarrely. “Some phosphorus compounds do that, for example.”

“Oh.”

“The second variant posses two glands instead, which produce so-called hypergolic propellants, which are fluids that ignite when they come in contact with one another.”

“Sick,” Dudley repeated, smiling.

“The last one stores methane bacteria in their stomach produce and expels it when breathing fire. In their mouth is a piezoelectric crystal, which is a substance that produces a spark when placed under mechanical stress and could thus serve to ignite the methane gas. Or...”

“Or?”

“Or, it’s just magic.”

“Just magic,” Dudley echoed.

Theodore yawned, groggily mumbling, “Talking dragons again, Draco?”

Draco smiled. “When aren’t I?”

And approximately twenty seven minutes later, both wizards were on their brooms, returning to Hogwarts.

Draco, of course, wasn’t flying all that well because he was fiddling on his phone.

“Are you  _ trying  _ to cause a collision?” Theodore growled.

“No, I’m trying to input Dudley’s number,” Draco replied. 

Theodore gaped at him. “You got his number? When?”

“Before we left. He was practically begging me to have it,” Draco bragged, nose so high in the air, clouds could go up his pompous nostrils.

“Hm. I would have bet a pretty gallion he was straight,” Nott commented.

Draco’s smirk stretched. “Come now. You don’t doubt my abilities that much, do you?”

“You’re full of shit,” Nott decided.

Draco wiggled his eyebrows. “Am I?” he asked dubiously.

Theodore squinted at him. “Are you taking the piss?”

“ _ Am  _ I?”

“Godric, I hate you, sometimes.”

“But you’re glad I brought you out?” Draco asked.

Nott mumbled something.

“What was that?”

“I  _ said _ , it wasn’t  _ all  _ that terrible. I’ll pay you back for getting me that cologne, by the way.”

Draco waved him off. “It was nothing. Consider it payment for chaperoning me.”

“I would have come anyway,” Nott mumbled.

Draco smiled at him. “I know. You’re my road-trip partner. I never even invited Pansy.”

Theodore smiled back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and feedback, guys! I'm having fun writing this one, haha


	4. 4

“Finally,” Theo groaned, “back home, where we belong.” He lowered to the ground and began to slow, but Draco whizzed passed him. “What? Where are you going?” he called after his friend.

“To find Potter!” Draco called back, adrenaline and excitement pumping through his veins. He wanted to see the look on Potter’s face when he delivered the bag of personal items.

Draco didn’t even bother hopping off his broom. He flew right from the field and into the castle, ignoring the screams of terror from First Years and the like as he searched for Potter. He grimaced at the mere thought of the punishment he would receive for doing so, but not only did he usually get off easy from breaking rules due to his role in training the Savior, but, well, said savior was worth it.

He slowed to a stop when he spotted Granger in the hall, who stared back at him in shock.

“Malfoy?” she asked. “What on earth-”

“Where is Potter?” he asked, breathless.

Granger stared at him for several seconds before shaking her head. “Training room, waiting for you, I expect.”

Draco was surprised at how late it was, but didn’t show it. He nodded at her gratefully before kicking off once more and speeding—though less haphazardly—to the room.

“Out of the way!” he yelled as he nearly barreled another student over. He drew his wand and spelled open the door to the unused classroom before dashing in.

Potter yelled, startled, as Draco nearly broke his neck. He’d tried to stop too quickly and slammed his feet on the ground, a rookie mistake, which only caused him to fly arse over tit and nearly into the blackboard.

“Oh, my God, Draco, are you okay?” he asked, horrified.

Draco, too excited, brushed off the whole thing. He forced himself up, wincing as his back tinged and his head pounded, before wheeling on a surprised Potter with intention. He stalked up to the other boy, smirking, and Potter watched him, looking oddly nervous.

“I’ve a surprise for you,” Draco murmured, smirk widening as Potter gulped.

“D-d-do you?” he stuttered, nearly stumbling over a desk as he continued backing up as Draco advanced, like prey from its predator.

“You’ll love it,” Draco purred, reaching out and fisting a hand in Potter’s shirt, hauling him close.

“Draco, I-” Potter began, but the blond placed a finger to his lips, really playing up the theatrics. Things were going perfectly according to plan, and Potter would be  _ delighted  _ when he saw what Draco brought back for him, he knew it!

He bit his lip to keep from laughing, and Potter’s eyes flew to the action with fascination. “Shut your eyes,” he commanded, softly.

“Yes,” Potter whispered, eyes fluttering shut.

Draco pulled him closer, and Potter’s breath caught, and then Draco was showing something on his head and backing up, howling in laughter.

Potter’s eyes snapped open, looking hurt. As Draco laughed harder, he looked like he was going to cry, really, and the blond managed to get himself together enough to summon a mirror.

Potter’s eyes flickered to it, and then remained, looking at himself curiously as he admired the headband Draco had shoved on his head. It was a black headband with cat ears, charmed to move and flicker around realistically.

“You look ridiculous,” Draco choked out, tears streaming from his eyes. “It’s perfect, I love it. N-never take it off,” he guffawed.

Potter looked back at him, expression searching. “I thought you were laughing at me,” he said, feline ears flattening anxiously.

Draco bit his lip again, trying to contain his giggled. “I am,” he assured, “I just—I have such great taste,” he wheezed.

“No, I thought...” Potter shook his head. He smiled, though it was small. “Is this where you were all day? Getting me a stupid headband?”

“Oh, no,” Draco admitted, finally getting himself under control. He knew he was still flushed and faintly out of breath, but it was in a good way. Potter watched him peculiarly as Draco shoved the backpack at him. “Look inside,” Draco instructed excitedly.

Potter did, surprised by what was inside. “You got me my stuff?” he asked, voice light with awe.

Draco was unashamed as he preened, puffing out his chest a bit. “I also got you new shoes. Oh! Look at this,” he demanded, face serious. He stomped his foot, and little lights flickered. Draco brushed back his fringe, expression cocky. “Neat, huh?”

Potter shook his head, smiling widely and fondly. “You’re ridiculous,” he decided.

“I believe the word you were looking for is  _ radiant _ .”

“That, too,” Potter said, eyes warm. “I like your haircut, by the very. Very stylish.”

“Isn’t it?” Draco asked, though he tucked his fringe behind his ear shyly. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the trimmed sides of the undercut, but if Potter liked it, it couldn’t be abhorrent. Not that Potter was anyone he should take fashion advice from.

He snorted at his own witty train of thought before returning to the present, realizing how close they were standing.

Taking a step back so they stood at a polite distance from each other once more, Draco then turned and plopped his arse on one of the desks, smiling. “Are you happy?”

Potter watched him, expression unreadable for a moment before he nodded. “Yes. Thank you for doing this. You didn’t have to...” he trailed off, running a hand through his hair.

Draco eyed him, a little confused and a little put off, though he didn’t show it. Potter didn’t seem all that excited now, compared to before, when he’d first flown in.

“What?” Potter asked, cheeks flushing. “Why are you staring at me?”

Draco blinked. “What did you think I’d gotten you?” he asked easily, though inside he was bubbling with anticipation. Whatever it was, he would find it, get it for Potter’s birthday, or something.

Potter flushed harder before looking away brusquely, shoving his hands in the deep pockets of his robes. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Why did you come in on your broom? Aren’t there rules against that, or something?”

Draco watched him for a few moments as Potter’s face heated further, letting the Gryffindor know that yes, Draco was aware of the poorly forced change in subject, and yes, Draco was going to let it slide—for now—because he was that considerate of a guy.

And, he was confident he could get it out of Potter later. The brunette didn’t really keep secrets, as far as Draco was aware.

“I couldn’t wait to see you,” Draco admitted, smiling. “I wanted to see your reaction. That, and I haven’t seen you all day. I missed you.”

Potter was staring at his hands, the cat ears on his head curiously erect, not giving away what was running through his mind.

Draco tilted his head. “What’s wrong?” he asked genuinely, concerned trickling into his tone.

Potter looked at him. He opened his mouth, but then made an odd shape with it before he smiled and said, “Just trying to catch up, is all. You came in so fast.”

Draco got the impression that hadn’t been what he was going to say at all, and usually he would let that slide, but Potter didn’t  _ keep  _ secrets, so what was going on?

“You’re lying,” he said.

Potter stared at him, not denying it, but not offering a better answer.

“What’s wrong?” Draco repeated.

Potter looked out the window, seeming content to ignore the question.

Draco slowly slid, like satin, from the desk and stepped up to him.

Potter didn’t react, but Draco knew he was aware of him.

He gently reached forward, taking the headband from Potter’s head and placing it on his own. “If you don’t like it, just say that,” Draco replied.

Potter snorted at him. “I don’t dislike it, I suppose,” he said.

Draco shrugged, unaware of what the ears were doing on his own head, but he thought it was ridiculous enough to keep around.

Something was off. They both knew that the headband wasn’t what was wrong, but Draco would pretend it was, for now. He didn’t know what to do here. He didn’t like the secrets, and didn’t like the idea that Potter wasn’t comfortable telling him something.

Maybe he needs space, he mused, but this had never happened before. Was it something he had done? Something he had said?

He needed to think about things.

He looked back at Potter, who was watching him, face blank until he saw Draco looking back at him. Then, Potter smiled, and it looked so natural that Draco wouldn’t have suspected anything if he wasn’t so keen with the atmosphere, with whatever tension was in the room.

“Thanks, really,” Potter said, and it sounded sincere enough, but he  _ still  _ wasn’t telling him something.

“I’m leaving,” Draco decided, voice cool.

Potter looked startled. “What?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Potter,” Draco replied, clipped. “I hope you like the shoes, if nothing else. Dudley helped pick them out himself. He seems worried about you-”

“Wait, Draco, what? Why are you acting like—Why are you angry?” Potter asked, eyes wide with fear, maybe. Confusion and hurt.

“I’m not,” Draco lied, mostly angry with himself for being so selfish.

It was just a stupid secret, it didn’t matter. He didn’t like feeling like some jealous girlfriend, because that wasn’t it at all, and he didn't feel that way about Potter in the first place.

He didn’t like the secret because the change had happened sometime between when Draco first entered the room, and now, implying it was something he had done. Draco didn’t like the thought that he’d hurt Potter’s feelings, or said the wrong thing, and that Potter wasn’t telling him in fear of hurting his feelings, or some other such rubbish. They were usually very open with one another, so this irked him, but he knew he would be over it soon.

“Honestly,” Draco said after a moment, smiling a little. “I’m exhausted, and hungry enough to eat a small child—even you would do, at this point, and you don’t have much meat on you at all,” he mused, and Potter looked a mixture of irritated and ashamed, which made Draco crack a smirk, because that was more like Potter. “I’m just in a strop, is all. Hopefully I’ll be feeling better tomorrow. See you.”

“Okay,” Potter replied warily, quietly, searching his face for—something. Draco hoped he never found it, feeling as spiteful as he was at that moment. It was ironic. Potter wanting him to be open up when Potter himself was hiding something. It was a vicious cycle, and Draco knew it would eat them alive if he didn’t  _ drop it _ —Circe’s tits, he was  _ much  _ too vindictive if something as small as this had him grinding his teeth.

He looked away, ashamed of himself and not wanting Potter to see that.

“See you,” Potter said, and it was akin to a whisper.

Draco nodded once, curtly, before turning and leaving the room.

He’d forgotten his broom, but didn’t dare return for it.

* * *

Draco did get over it. The next day, he’d woken annoyed, but only with himself for being so nosy and clingy all of a sudden. He’d gone to seek out Potter immediately, aware it was early, but he wanted to apologize and straighten things out as soon as possible.

Normally he wouldn’t, he supposed, but he’d been texting Dudley, pleasantly surprised to see he had service somehow—enough Muggleborns attended the school, so he supposed there might have been a network set up for their benefit—and he had insisted Draco apologize as soon as convenient. 

“Harry jumps to conclusions,” Dudley had said, “so the faster you explain yourself, the less time he’ll have blaming  _ him _ self.”

However, Draco was stopped in the hallway by none other than McGonagall herself. She’d smiled at him grimly.

“Now, Mr Malfoy... What is this I hear about you flying across Hogwarts on a broom?”

Draco groaned.

* * *

Okay, a little later than he would have preferred, but Draco was still determined to get his apologies out of the way—especially considering he now had after school detention for the next month.

He nearly barrelled down none other than Ron Weasley.

“Weasley!” Draco exclaimed. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m happy to see you! Where is-”

Weasley was suddenly up in his face, wand nearly up Draco’s nose.

“Malfoy,” Weasley sneered. “I don’t know what you said to Harry, but he was almost in tears last night. If you dare hurt him-”

Draco carefully pushed the wand away from his face, wary and acknowledging that wands could blow off fingers if not handled accurately. “I am on my way to apologize, actually,” he mumbled.

Weasley stared at him, narrowing his eyes, but then he leaned back and huffed. “Good,” he said. “He’s in the library with Hermione.” Weasley warned, “If you try  _ anything _ -”

Draco ignored him, bounding off. He arrived in the library slightly out of breath—Salazar, he needed to start working out or something—and quickly searched the aisles for Potter or Granger’s bushy head.

When he spotted them, he walked in on Granger saying, “You should just tell him, Harry. He’s not going to hate you.”

Draco blinked as both of them whipped around at him.

“Hate who?” Draco asked curiously. Then, he flushed, because he knew he was being nosy again, and he needed to work on that, apparently. “Sorry. I came over to, well, yes, say sorry, Potter, for being a right arse yesterday. I didn’t intend things to end the way they did, and I hope you’ll forgive me,” he rushed out, nervously tucking his fringe behind his ear.

Potter looked relieved, eyes warm. “Of course, Draco.”

Granger sent Potter a look, and Potter flushed and ducked his head.

“And I really hate to be nosy,” Draco couldn’t resist butting in, “but, Potter, you’re the bloody Chosen One. No one’s going to hate you, and if they do, I’ll make their lives a living hell until they realize that you’re not the one they should be wasting their ire on,” Draco promised, grinning.

Potter stared at him, eyes deep, for longer than Draco was prepared for.

For some reason, his face felt warm. He looked to Granger for some help, but she was just looking between the two of them pensively.

“Draco,” Potter said, snapping the blond to attention, “can I talk to you outside for a moment?”

Draco blinked. “Um, sure,” he said, and waited nervously as Potter, strangely serious, gathered his books and lead them out of the library. When Draco looked back at Granger, she was just watching, expression equally severe.

Potter didn’t talk to him outside of the library. He was silent as he lead Draco down several halls, a maze seemingly never ending, until they approached a dead end. Draco was just about to ask where they were going when a door appeared on the wall.

Potter was nonplussed as he walked right up to it and grabbed the handle, roughly pushing it open as he walked in.

Draco followed behind awkwardly, and jumped when the door shut behind them. He found himself in what looked like a smaller version of a common room, he supposed, with an extremely large sofa before a fire, and several windows lining the walls. Said windows displayed the open grounds of hogwarts, sunlight filtering in softly as birds and other sundry wildlife made brief appearances.

Draco glanced back at Potter, and for the first time, he realized Potter looked more nervous than grave. His fists were clenched, his eyes piercing yet shifty.

Potter was going to tell Draco his secret.

The Slytherin was torn between assuring Potter he needn’t have to—that Draco had gotten over it, and Potter  _ should  _ have some of his own secrets, while also feverently wanting to know what Potter didn’t want him to know.

Disturbingly enough, at some point in their relationship, Draco had begun to value Potter’s feelings over his own, so when Potter finally opened his mouth, Draco cut him off.

“Potter,” he said softly, “Harry, you don’t need to tell me. I think it’s healthy to have things you want to keep to yourself.”

Potter looked at his shoes. “I feel like... this is something that is going to be with me for a long time, Draco. I don’t want it to keep causing a rift between us...”

Draco flinched a bit. “I won’t make it an issue,” he promised, “I know I have my flaws, I shouldn’t need to know every little thing about you-”

“But I want you to!” Potter interrupted in a rush, taking a step towards him. “I want you to want to know me as closely as you can,” he insisted, looking faintly pained.

“But not to the point of causing a rift,” Draco reminded, frustrated with himself.

“No, of course not, but...” Potter was wringing his hands, eyes jumping around the room before finally settling on the area above Draco’s shoulder. “But I think I can fix that if I just... If I tell you.”

“You don’t have to-”

“No, I,” Potter took a deep breath, forcing himself to make eye contact with his friend. “I was upset, yesterday, because I thought you’d been going to kiss me.”

Draco blinked. “Oh,” he said.

“And I was disappointed, because... you didn’t.”

“O-oh.”

Potter was looking at him in a way that made Draco nervous, because Potter wasn’t looking at him the way Pansy did when she wanted to snog, or the way Blaise did when he was trying to be seductive. No, Potter was looking at him like he was something he was terrified of losing, and that was... scary.

“Alright,” he mumbled, unsure.

“Is it?” Potter asked, eyes searching.

Draco crossed his arms and bit his lip anxiously, glancing away before finding his resolve and releasing it from between his teeth. “I don’t know what you’re saying,” he lied, wanting to, needing to hear it in words.

Potter was looking at him like he could see through him, and Draco shivered.

“I like you,” he said, candid, and then flushed harder than Draco had previously thought possible, but his eyes were fierce, his jaw set. “As more than a friend.”

Draco looked at the ceiling, trying to find his center. He tried to remember how he’d felt when first confessing his ‘love’ to someone—terrified—and how that person (a Sixth Year, at the time) had responded—by telling him what he was feeling wasn’t love, but a crush. He liked the thought of her, not her in actuality. It turned out she’d been right, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been destroyed by her clipped rebuttal.

He looked at Potter searchingly, wondering why his confession didn’t awaken anything new in Draco; Annoyance, disgust, fear. He was just... Potter. The same Potter Draco would do anything for, the same Potter Draco had saved and would continue to do so for as long as he could—and even after that, if he had any say in it.

“Harry,” he said, voice neutral, “I can’t say I feel the same way, romantically.”

Potter looked down at his hands, interlacing his fingers, silent. “I know,” he whispered.

Draco stepped up to him, pretending he couldn’t see how Potter stiffened, or how he looked about to cry.

“But,” Draco continued, pulling a surprised Potter into a hug, “I could agree with you in almost every other sense. I feel... close to you. I would do anything for you—did you know that? I won’t—I’m not like that with all my friends. I know I would  _ try  _ to do things for them, but with you, it’s different—stronger, special. I...”

Draco leaned back just enough to look Potter in the eyes, hoping he could feel and see all of Draco’s sincerity.

“I wish, sometimes, that I hadn’t taken you away from Little Whinging, because I’ve singlehandedly put you in more danger than you likely would have faced in your whole life, before this, and you know that the only reason I did so was to save my family, my friends. But,” his eyes glanced away, then back, narrowed a bit, “I regret it, kind of. I wish I had tried harder with Longbottom, that I had saved you as a last resort, and even then, that I had more in stock to protect you. I don’t want to be the one to hurt you, Harry,” he whispered.

“Are you sure?” Potter croaked, wiping at his eyes with a choked sort of laugh, “Because I really want to kiss you, right now.”

Draco smirked a little bit. “I’m not gay,” he apologized, “but, if I had to be gay with anyone, Potter, it would definitely be with you,” he assured.

“That’s... not helping.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “I’m not being too condescending, am I? When I was in Third Year, I confessed to this witch in Sixth Year, and in no uncertain terms did she tell me that I was simply a child, and that I didn’t  _ like  _ her, I liked the  _ thought  _ of her. I didn’t want to say that to you so bluntly-”

“Wait, what?” Potter asked, taking a step back, out of the embrace.

“Well,” Draco tried, floundering, knowing he’d said something wrong again and trying to find out what it was so he could fix it, and fast, “we’re both young, and you’re even younger than I am-”

“By, like, a month!”

Draco was a little shocked by that. “Sorry, I’d forgotten, I suppose. You’re so tiny-”

“Oh, my God!” Potter yelled, throwing his hands in the air. “You think I’m a child!”

“No!” Draco hastened to deny, though he supposed it was true, a little bit.

“Yes, you do! You want to ‘protect’ me because you think I’m weak!”

“What?” Draco reeled back, stung. “No, Harry, that’s not it at all.”

Potter stared at him, eyes burning, angry, before he looked away, curt. “I know,” he acquiesced.

“I’m-” Draco reached forward, as if to touch him, but at Potter’s look, he slowly put his hand down. “I’m sorry. I’m rather rubbish at sharing my feelings, and all this shite,” he mumbled, rubbing at his nape nervously, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Potter sighed and deflated, like a balloon, all anger flowing from him almost as quickly as it had come. “I know,” he said. “I’ve always been, erm, sensitive about my height, my weight, but it never mattered around you. But now... you’re saying it’s part of what makes me so unacceptable to you.”

Draco was horrified. “First of all,  _ no _ , you’re never  _ unacceptable  _ to me, Potter. Didn’t I just wax poetic about how I’d hang the moon for you? Second of all, your height and weight don’t matter to me either,” he tried, though that was partially a lie. Potter was so thin, sometimes it was a wonder to Draco that he was as powerful as he was. It mattered in the sense that Draco would worry sometimes without remembering how strong Potter actually was, be it physically or mentally.

But he didn’t want Potter thinking that changing his size would change anything between them, because it wouldn’t—he wasn’t gay—and it’s not as though his height or weight mattered to Draco all that much—it didn’t make Potter seem any less, in his eyes.

“I’m just not ready, anyway—I don’t even  _ know  _ how I feel about romance, because I’ve never been in love. I mean, I don’t look at you and think I want to fancy you,” he explained.

Potter stared at him quizzically. “That’s... not how love works.”

Oh, no, now they were using  _ that  _ L word.

“Well, I wouldn’t know,” Draco huffed.

“So let me try again, later,” Potter insisted, voice determined, and it caught Draco off guard.

“What?”

“When I get a little taller, and I’ve filled out a bit more. Let me try then, and then we’ll see how you feel.”

“I don’t think I could like you any more than I already do,” Draco said honestly.

Potter scowled at the ceiling, and then at Draco. “You’re  _ not helping _ ,” he growled.

“Okay!” Draco lifted his hands in surrender. “I just... I’m flattered, and honored, to tell the truth, that someone like you likes someone like me-”

“ _ Draco _ .”

“ _ But _ ,” he added, “I like you just the way you are. Don’t change yourself for me-”

“I wouldn’t, and I’m not,” Potter said simply, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But, you’re not saying no.”

Draco eyed him warily. “Well, I don’t know. When are we talking about? Months? Years? I’ve never really believed in schoolyard romance, for one, and for another, I can’t really picture my sexuality changing anytime soon, because I know that’s not really how that works, either.”

Potter frowned a bit. “I’m not going to force anything,” Potter promised, “but give me a chance? When I try later on, promise you won’t automatically say no.”

“I would never automatically say no to you,” Draco assured softly.

Potter pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling loudly, before marching forward, spinning Draco by his shoulders, and shoving him from the room with surprising strength.

“Yeah, you need to leave.”

“What?” Draco squawked. “What did I do this time?” he cried indignantly.


	5. 5

_ ME: Potter said he fancied me. _

Draco waited with baited breath as he watched the blinking little ellipses appear, implying that Dudley was typing his response. For some reason, he really needed to know what the older boy thought of this situation. If he even knew Potter was gay—or bi? Whatever his sexuality was, assuming Potter had one.

_ DUD THE STUD: Oh. Wouldn’t have guessed _

Draco stared at the response. The contact name had been Theo’s idea.

_ ME: Are you surprised about Potter’s confession to liking another guy, Potter confessing to me, or the fact that someone confessed to me at all. _

_ DUD: The last one obviously _

Draco smirked.

_ ME: Jealousy can make people think strange things. _

Dudley’s response was swift.

_ DUD: WHAT _

_ DUD: FUCKING GROSS _

_ DUD: NO _

_ DUD: FUCKING NEVER _

_ ME: How aggressive. Strangely defensive. _

_ DUD: W/ EITHER OF U _

_ DUD: UR BOTH LIKE BROTHERS _

_ DUD: FUCK NO, JUST NO _

Draco smiled to himself, and felt pleased, a bit. He’d never had other siblings, obviously, but he wondered if this was what it was like?

_ ME: Anything new with you? _

Dudley was typing for a solid couple minutes, making Draco both curious and nervous.

When he saw the responding text messages, he found that his fears were founded.

_ DUD: Actually yes _

_ DUD: Some people from the school r suspicious of H’s sudden leave & have been badgering my parents 4 information _

_ DUD: They keep saying he’s run away, but these officials or w/e r starting 2 question their ability 2 b his guardians.  _

_ ME: No offense, but about bloody time. _

_ DUD: but it’s NOT a good time?? H isn’t here. They can’t track him, and if we can’t produce him either, we’re gonna get in serious trouble. U guys need 2 come back. Just 2 tell them 2 their faces that he’s run off. _

Draco was shocked into momentary silence. A feat.

_ DUD: Also this kid has been creeping around our yard lately. I think he suspects ur wizardry or w/e _

Draco wanted to scream.

_ ME: We’ll be there as soon as possible. And... don’t tell anyone that we’re coming, OK? I’ve broken enough rules as is, and despite my comfortable position in the hierarchy at this school, I’m not indispensable, though I may be best qualified. That being said, my arse is in your hands. _

_ DUD: Still gross. _

Draco smirked.

_ ME: Love you too, Duddy-kins _

_ DUD: FUCKING BYE _

Draco was laughing as he shut his phone. He tried not to use it too often, but even just having it laying around seemed to consume it’s life—battery, Dudley had explained? Despite the  _ stasis  _ charms between uses, its battery was running low, and Draco needed to return to charge it in an outlet, or something. He couldn’t remember the specifics, but he knew Dudley would help him, either way.

But first, Potter.

* * *

Draco strode into their private little training room with a hop in his step.

Potter looked surprised to see it.

Draco grinned at him. “I have a surprise for you.”

Potter eyed him warily. “To avoid, erm, any misunderstandings... You want to just tell me?”

“And ruin the surprise?” Draco asked, aghast.

“I’m coming to suspect that I’m not going to like your surprises all that much.”

“Nonsense,” Draco assured. “You liked the headband-”

“I mean, it was alright-”

“And I’m sure you want to visit Dudley-”

“ _ What?” _

Draco blinked. “Shit. Well, kneazle’s out of the bag now. We’re visiting your family!” Draco threw his hands in the air in supposed glee.

“No,” Potter said simply.

Draco wiggled his fingers, still raised in the air, as if expecting some sort of belated excitement on Potter’s part.

None came. In fact, Potter’s deadpan stare turned drier and drier as Draco’s elation plummeted into befuddlement.

“Why not?” he asked, a tad huffy.

“I don’t want to see them again,” Potter replied, jaw terse.

“Oh!” He immediately felt guilty. “Oh, no, I didn’t—Merlin, Potter, we’re not going to see  _ them _ .” Draco sneered. “In fact, I could die happily never seeing them again. No, we’re going to see Dudley, who has been asking after you because he  _ cares _ , and we’re going to go to your school and tell them that you’ve decided to drop out and elope with me or what have you of your own free will, so they’ll not send the hounds on the Dursleys, as much as they may deserve it. We don’t want the Muggle authorities on your case, right now, or they’ll be dreadfully curious how you just up and vanished, won’t they?”

Potter stared at him, and Draco needed no further encouragement before stepping up to him and pulling the bespectacled wizard into a fierce hug.

Potter clung to him, trembling. “I don’t want to go,” he whispered.

“I know,” Draco sighed, running a hand through Potter’s hair in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. He was getting better at comforting a  _ little bit _ , he reasoned. “How about we avoid them entirely? We’ll go to your school, and you’ll talk to whoever runs the place, and then we’ll rendezvous with Dudley, go out for ice cream, and drag our sorry arses back home?”  _ After I  _ obliviate  _ a certain nosy child lurking about _ , but Potter didn't need to know that.

Potter shook against him, and Draco realized he was laughing.

“You can’t just walk into a school-”

“I’ll blend in,” Draco promised.

“You don’t have a uniform,” Potter said, stepping back and out of his arms to send him a smirk.

“I’ll transfigure one of yours,” Draco replied, growing more determined to do just that. “I know, we’ll go incognito. We’ll pretend to be attending classes, but then,  _ bam,  _ we invade the office, conquer, and take over the damn place. You and me. We’ll run this bitch.”

Potter outright laughed. “You’re so full of shit.”

“But it would be fun,” Draco reasoned, dead serious. “We could obliviate them all after. It would be like playing pretend for a day, except no one is in on it except for us.”

“I like the plan,” Potter conceded, “up until the part where we take over. We can go to a couple of my classes so I can say bye to some of my professors, and then we'll head to the office, tell them I’m dropping out, or resigning, or whatever, and not to harass m-my fa-The Dursleys, and then we’ll meet with Dudley. I... miss him, a bit.”

Draco sighed. “Why settle when we could have it all?”

“I don’t want to pretend,” Potter said simply. “What if I like it too much?”

“We could do it as often as we wanted,” Draco lied. Repeated obliviation could be dangerous to one’s mental health, but he had a point to prove, and therefore would miraculously forget that information for the time being.

“That seems a little too Overlord-y for me.”

“Again,” Draco shrugged, “you’re settling for less when you could have the best. But, it’s your loss.”

Potter rolled his eyes, but it was fond. “If you want to take over my school so badly, why not just do it yourself?”

Draco raised his nose. “Maybe I have, and I just  _ obliviate _ d you.”

Potter looked mildly concerned for about three seconds before snorting. “You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t,” Draco agreed, disgusted with himself. “I’ve gone soft.”

“Unfortunate,” Potter replied, smirking. “Also, I hope you appreciate how easily I could have made an innuendo out of that.”

“Duly noted,” Draco replied.

“You just have to mourn the stillbirth of a line like that,” Potter said.

Draco scoffed. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Potter smiled at him, and it looked like they were going to be okay.

* * *

“Oh, my gods,” Nott whined, “how do I keep getting dragged into these illegal escapades of yours!”

“Blackmail?” Potter suggested.

“A thirst for danger,” Draco said, instead, voice low.

“Neither!” Theo squawked, and his voice cracked and had both of the other boys grimacing at the sound of him.

“Okay, calm down,” Potter tried.

“Hold him down,” Draco argued gravely. “I’ve a calming draught in my bag for times like these.”

“I’m not _ hysterical! _ ” Theodore screeched. “You two are _ insane _ , you danger-seeking freaks!”

Draco knew Theo would calm down in about two minutes, but he liked to go down with as many theatrics as he could fit in. However, using  _ that  _ word around Potter still made him flinch, so Draco took it upon himself to skip the two minutes.

He grabbed Theo by his collar and hauled him forward. The look in his eye made the brunette pause and gulp.

“First of all,” Draco purred, and Theo trembled a bit, “you came of your own accord, because you're my friend and I asked you,” he hissed. “Second of all, because I’m  _ your  _ friend and you  _ trust  _ me, beneath all those layers of cowardice.” Draco stepped away, expression disappointed. “At least, I thought.”

Draco had always pegged Theodore a Hufflepuff, and this only proved it.

He all but melted. “ _ Draco _ ,” he whinged, pulling the blond forward and into a rough hug. “Of course I trust you. Sometimes. When we’re not breaking into Harry Potter’s house and ruining his shoes and threatening his Muggle family members-”

“Wait, what?” asked Potter.

The two Slytherin ignored him.

“Which could,” Theo continued, “in all actuality, have me in Azkaban before I could say ‘Innocent’.” Theodore pulled back from him, and there was that Slytherin cunning. “That being said, we’re doing something less provocative, but still dangerous, because I doubt you got permission this time, either.” he raised an eyebrow.

Draco smiled slowly. “I’m a danger-seeker,” he confessed easily.

“ _ What? _ ” Potter repeated.

“I want immunity,” Theo demanded, crossing his arms. “When shit hits the fan-”

“If,” Draco corrected.

“ _ When _ ,” Nott stressed, “I want you two to state my innocence in this all. I was dragged along unwillingly.”

“Why, you-” Potter snarled, but cut himself off when Draco stuck out a hand.

He scrutinized his friend for a moment before grinning. “Why are you never this crafty when it counts?” he asked, a bit impressed.

Nott only grumbled at him. “And this  _ doesn’t _ ?”

“Fine,” Draco said. “Granted.”

“Granted,” Potter acquiesced mulishly, but acquiesced nonetheless.

“Now.” Draco clapped his hands. “Where are these uniforms you’ve spoken of?”

* * *

“They’re bloody hideous, is what they are,” Theodore proclaimed.

Draco couldn’t help but agree, tugging at his sweater vest with more than a little displeasure. Plaid? Salazar, save him. Of course, he could pull anything off, but this particular uniform  _ just  _ pushed the limits.

He found solace in the fact that Theo looked much worse.

Potter, surprisingly, looked blissfully average in his uniform.

“Were you wearing that the day I met you?” Draco asked, squinting as if to aid his memory.

Potter shook his head, staring at the mirror in his room. “No. I don’t usually wear it.”

Nott snorted. “No surprise there.”

“Well, out of all of us, it suits him best,” Draco noted.

Potter looked surprised as Theodore turned to regard him.

“You’re right,” he agreed, a little surprised himself. “How does this  _ not  _ look dreadful on him?”

“He’s so common looking in the first place?” Draco suggested.

Theo nodded. “That must be it. These things only constrict our superior beauty.”

“Naturally,” Draco replied.

Potter was smiling. “You both know I can hear you, yes?”

“It’s phonemically aware?” Draco asked in mock shock.

“It’s  _ sentient _ ?” Theo asked, scandalized.

Potter turned, spotted, and grabbed a pillow which he promptly chucked at them, laughing. “I don’t even know what half of those words  _ meant _ !”

“Further proving our point,” Draco assured. He was met with a face-full of pillow in retaliation.

* * *

“Oh, no,” Theo murmured, eyes wide and on the school bus swiftly approaching them. “We’re expected to get on  _ that _ ?”

“Well, yes,” Potter said, running a hand through his messy hair. He looked anxious, and Draco wasn’t sure what he could do about that. “And you’ll have to share a seat, so don’t expect any empty ones. There are too little buses and too many kids.”

Theodore looked ready to faint.

Draco wasn’t sure what to expect, and similar to how he trained, how he prepared to enter battle, he stayed vigilant and quiet. Watchful.

The bus pulled to a stop with great effort, wheels screeching as it did so. The whole thing seemed to shudder and chortle as it settled back into place, fumes rising from a lower pipe peeking out from the rear.

“If I die,” Nott began, but with a roll of his eyes, Potter pushed him on the bus, ignoring his weak protests. Draco climbed in behind them both, and felt a mixture of satisfaction and alienation when all eyes on the bus flew to the three of them. A few pairs lingered, though most of the hollow eyes staring back eventually turned away, disinterested.

Theo sat down next to a green-haired girl nervously, but she didn’t even look away from the window, merely scooting over.

Potter, on the other hand, had trouble finding a seat, as people were putting down their backpacks in the empty space, or splaying out so there would be no more room for him.

Potter looked more frustrated than insulted, but that was alright because Draco was slighted enough for the both of them.

He turned to the seat directly to his left, filled with a boy, and glared.

When the boy looked up at him, his eyes widened and he shrunk away from the blond.

“Move,” Draco hissed, eyes narrowing, and the boy, quaking, grabbed his bag and scrambled out of his seat.

Draco plopped down, pleased, and patted the empty seat next to him when Potter looked back at the commotion, eyes wide in shock.

Potter slowly, nervously made his way over before ducking down next to Draco.

“How do you do that?” he whispered as the bus jerked into motion.

“I’m a scary guy,” Draco replied, looking at Potter in favor of the window. It was similar to flying, seeing the way things flew passed him, but he had no control over the steering, which made him feel discomfited.

“But, you’re not,” Potter argued. “I’ve never felt scared of you, not even once.”

Draco shrugged. “Maybe it’s because I’ve never felt the need to threaten you.”

“Try,” Potter said, eyes open and trusting. “People  _ shake  _ when you look at them. How is that even possible?”

Draco shrugged again. “Magic,” he said.

Potter didn’t looked sated with that answer, but let it go.

The next time the bus stopped, a tall, lanky teen with shotty stubble and large front teeth swaggered his way into the aisle. There was something attractive about his confident gait, the cocky expression on his long face. Red hair fell over his blue eyes in a tangled, wavy mess, and when he grinned, his jaw looked a little crooked.

“If it isn’t Harry Potter,” the teen greeted as he plopped down in the seat across from them.

The ginger didn’t greet Draco, so any respect he may have had for his carriage vanished.

“Dean,” Potter replied, smiling slightly.

“You’re wearing that uniform again?” Dean asked, raising a bushy, unkempt eyebrow. “You look like a nerd.”

Potter shrugged. “I won’t be wearing it much longer. I’m dropping out, after today.”

Dean looked shocked. “No bloody way.”

Potter ducked his head shyly, and it seemed Dean finally noticed Draco.

He promptly paled.

Potter looked at Dean, paused, and then turned to the blond.

Draco smiled guilelessly.

The bus pulled to a stop before the school, and all the students piled out. A few elbows directed acutely to another’s sternum had Draco out of the bus in no time at all.

“Why was Dean so quiet?” Potter asked him suspiciously as they waited patiently for Nott to get his shaken arse off the bus.

“Dunno,” Draco replied, shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

“You were giving him a look,” Potter decided. “Why?” he demanded.

Draco huffed a bit, not bothering to hide it now. “You looked happy to see him. I’ve never had competition as your best friend before.” Draco paused. “Rather, I thought I had competition, but then I got to know Weasley and Granger and realized I didn’t have any competition after all.”

Potter elbowed him, but he was grinning, flushed with flattery. “You’re a real ponce, you know that?”

Draco was tempted to reply, “Not as much as you are, apparently,” but refrained. It would have been clever, however, so Draco mourned it.

“Not sure what you’re so happy about,” Draco grumbled, just because. “I’m competitive. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Possessive,” Potter corrected, and Draco was horrified. “Which,” Potter agreed, judging by his grimace, “in any other situation, I would find terribly annoying, but since I’ve got a long way to go before it will actually  _ mean  _ anything, I’ll take what I can get.”

Draco frowned a bit. “I’m sorry,  _ mean  _ anything? Is my friendly possessiveness not what you’re looking for?”

Potter stared at him hard, and Draco, for a fleeting moment, was tempted to back away. But Malfoys never backed away, and the urge in itself was so unfamiliar that it almost scared him.

Potter scared him.  _ Potter _ .

“We’re not close enough for me to permit that kind of behavior,” Potter said, slow and deep, gaze unwavering.

“Would you allow your, erm, lovers to be possessive?” Draco asked, fighting for some way to turn the argument off of himself.

Potter eyed him before turning away. “Not in general, no. But in certain situations, and as long as they expected the same kind of unflattering behavior in return, maybe. Maybe.”

Draco wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he didn’t.

Finally, Theo was off the bus, looking harried and paranoid, like a cornered animal.

“We haven’t even gotten into school, yet,” Potter groused.

Theodore did faint, that time.

* * *

After a trip to the nurse—in which the useless thing offered Theo’s seemingly lifeless body an ice pack, but the cold snapped him out of it, so Draco was grudgingly forced to thank her—they made their way to the second floor, where Potter claimed he wanted to bid a few professors farewell.

Draco and Theo waited outside of the classroom as Potter did so.

A gaggle of girls swaggered up to them both, fluttering their eyelashes.

“Is something in the air?” Theo asked him, looking around.

“The spasmodic eye movement does raise question,” Draco murmured, taking a step closer to his friend. Their backs, guarded, were to the wall, but together, Draco was confident they could take on these unfamiliar creatures. Muggle girls were a whole new obstacle, Draco was sure.

“You new?” one asked.

“Knew who?” Draco asked, and they giggled.

“Are you new here?” another clarified.

“Oh,” Nott said. Then, “Yes, but we won’t be for long. We’re dropping out.”

The girls ooh’d and aah’d.

“We’re starting a band,” Draco added, just to see how they would react, and they ooh’d even more.

“All performances will be in the dark,” Theo said, leaning in, and they mimicked the movement, “because we’ll be  _ naked _ .”

The girls all laughed, and Draco snorted. They were just like witches, just without the threat of getting hexed.

“Well, listen,” said the fifth and final girl. “I’m having a party tonight at my house. Why don’t you bring your band over and we can...” She peered at them through her thick eyelashes. “Have some fun?” she offered.

“Sounds suspicious,” Theodore commended.

“And scandalous,” Draco agreed. “I’m in. Should we bother with the clothing, or...?”

The girl tittered. “My parents are home! Though, they go to bed early. Maybe later on in the night.”

Draco mock saluted her, and she laughed again before boldly grabbing his arm, uncapping a strongly scented, cylindrical writing instrument, and scribbling a string of numbers across his wrist—her number, he realized.

When the girls wandered off, still giggling amongst themselves, Theo elbowed him.

“How come you always get everyone's numbers?”

Draco raised his nose. “Because  _ I  _ have a phone.”

“Yeah, but  _ she  _ didn’t know that!” Nott protested hotly.

“Who didn’t know what?” Potter asked as he sidled up next to them. His eyes easily flew to the bold scribbling across Draco’s pale skin, and he looked shocked.

“Draco got some bird’s number,” Theodore grumbled.

“I was gone four minutes,” Potter whispered, looking spooked.

Draco grinned when Potter met his eyes. “Looks like we’ve a party to go to after meeting up with Dudley.”

“I wasn’t invited,” Potter mumbled awkwardly, scuffing his shoe on the shiny linoleum floor.

Draco frowned. “Nonsense. You’ll be my plus-one. If they don’t let you in, then none of us are going.”

Potter looked even more uncomfortable. “Don’t do that,” he whispered. “Don’t make everyone not go because I can’t.”

Draco rolled his eyes before taking Potter’s hand, shocking the brunette, and tugging on it frustratedly.

“Who’s ‘everyone’? It’s just me and Theo, and without you there, it won’t be any fun anyway.”

“Hey!” Theo complained.

“I only accepted,” Draco continued, lowering his voice so only Potter could hear—and maybe Nott, if he stopped complaining and shut his gob for more than seven seconds at a time, “because I was imagining  _ us  _ going. I don’t know them, so I won’t be missing out by not going. If anything, I’d be missing out on the opportunity to spend time with you, which is far more important, don’t you think? Theo?”

Theodore grumbled, but nodded. “They just kept giggling. Couldn’t hold a scintillating conversation if they tried. At least with you, we can make fun of you.”

Potter smiled. “Thanks, Theo.”

“See? So come on, Potter. Be my plus-one?”

Potter smiled shyly, ducking his head a bit. “Sure.”

Draco’s face fell. “Ah, shit.”

Potter paled. “What?”

“How are we gonna get Theo in if you’re my plus-one?”

Nott all but roared, “I was  _ invited _ , you  _ ninny _ !”


	6. Chapter 6

“Harry,” Dudley greeted, subdued and awkward.

Potter took three strides towards him and yanked him into a hug.

Dudley looked pleasantly surprised.

“I missed you,” Potter whispered, burying his head in his cousin’s broad shoulder, and all at once Draco felt intrusive.

He gently tugged Theodore aside, calling over his shoulder, “We’ll be back in a bit!”

“We will?” Theo asked as they walked not to the bathrooms, but out of the restaurant entirely.

“We need to fly back to the Dursley’s place real quick,” Draco admitted, sheepish. “Dudley says some kid has been lurking about.”

Theo stared at him, deadpan. “Some kid who knows you’re a wizard because you’ve been careless.”

“ _ Maybe _ ,” Draco huffed, arms akimbo.

“I cannot  _ believe  _ you! Have you no care for the Statute of Secrecy? You’re going to get us put in Azkaban!”

Draco rolled his eyes, pulling their brooms from his bag. “As if no wizard has ever been young or reckless.”

“You can’t use that line as an excuse when you’re  _ still  _ young and reckless!”

Draco raised his nose, mounting his broom. “I can, and I will.”

Despite his blatant reservations, Theo was on his broom and shooting after Draco hastily, not wanting to be left behind as he cast a swift glamour over the both of them.

They arrived at the Dursley’s swiftly, but remained circling the abode and the attached neighborhood, looking for any suspicious figures. When they found none after nearly ten minutes, Draco grew frustrated.

“What, did you just think this kid would happen to be out and about?” Nott scoffed.

“I’m generally pretty lucky with these things,” Draco admitted, carting a hand through his hair.

Theo snorted. “Yeah, well, looks like your luck has run out-”

“Not just yet,” Draco interrupted, smirk of defiance clear in his voice as he shot down after a figure, glad in a red raincoat, cycling down the street.

Theodore watched from above, shocked and mildly disbelieving, as Malfoy promptly accosted the bicyclist, nearly scaring the poor bloke off his bike, before throwing some words at the Muggle, followed by a swift spell. Then, Draco was on his broom again and met Theodore, up in the air, with a cheeky grin.

“I can’t believe you,” Theo repeated.

“To be fair,” Draco acquiesced, “he wasn’t a Muggle, but a wizard. He was watching the Dursleys because he didn’t even know what a wizard was. I told him I’d get Hogwarts to send him a Letter with what he needs to do and know.”

“And the spell?” Nott asked, still incredulous.

“Mild healing spell, both to prove my point, and because he’d twisted his ankle when stopping his bike like that. Some people just don’t have any finesse.”

“And you’re sure that’s the bloke?”

“Well, he recognized me, and didn’t seem all that surprised to see me on my broom. I’m guessing it’s him.”

Theo sighed. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Keep me out of trouble,” Draco decided.

“I—You—We  _ both _ wish I could do that, I think.”

When they arrived back at the little restaurant, they walked back in to see Harry, who’d just been speaking in hushed tones with his cousin, look at the door, recognize them, and flush bright red.

“Ooh, what are we whispering about?” Draco asked loudly, as tactless as they come, as he strode over and straddled a chair, just because he could. He would never get away with such uncouth posture and poor table manners back at home, but here, no one knew him, and those who did wouldn’t give a shit.

It was exhilarating to do whatever he wanted, when he wanted.

“Harry was telling me how much he liked you,” Dudley replied bluntly, and Harry elbowed him roughly.

“Then you should’ve been using the LOUDEST voice POSSIBLE,” Draco hollered, keen on being obnoxious where people would never see him again, “because he likes me a LOT, because I’m the BEST he’s ever HAD-”

“Shut up, you insensitive arse,” Potter cut in, sniggering, “people are staring.”

“Am I not the best friend you’ve ever had?” Draco asked, lolling his head in Potter’s direction.

“‘Course y’are,” Potter replied, smiling widely. 

Dudley was scrutinising them rather intently.

“I love you too, Duddy-kins,” Draco assured, batting his eyelashes. “Have I mentioned how dashing you look today?”

“Ew,” Dudley replied, but he was smiling as he sipped at his iced tea.

“This is cute and all, and sorry to interrupt, truly, but didn’t we order like an hour ago?” Theo cut in. “Am I the only one starving?”

* * *

Potter hugged Dudley again when they got out of his car.

“And you’re sure this is the place?” Dudley asked, eyeing the house warily. He looked like a parent dropping his kids off for their first play-date, Draco realized belatedly, and wasn’t that just a darling thought?

“It the address she texted me, so if  _ you  _ took us to the wrong place, then yes,” Draco replied.

“Maybe we should just go,” Potter mumbled, looking nervous.

“We should!” Theo agreed, making his way up the front porch.

“I meant go home!” Potter whispered loudly after him, but it was too late, Nott had already pressed the doorbell, and was sending them all unimpressed glances.

“Draco?” he asked expectantly, but Draco was looking at Potter.

He waited until green eyes met his own before he asked, “Are you alright?”

Potter frowned a bit. “Of course I am.”

Draco held out his hand, not bothering to argue otherwise. “Ready?”

Potter worried his lip between his teeth for a moment before nodding and shyly taking his hand.

Draco grinned as he led them up the driveway and to the porch as well. Just as they were stepping up to it, the door opened, and the light from inside flooded out, making the three boys squint.

“You guys!” the fifth girl from earlier squealed excitedly. “Who’s this? Another band member?”

“A what?” Potter asked, perplexed.

Draco smirked at him. “Of course he is. You can sing, can’t you, Potter?”

“Can I  _ what _ ?”

“He just needs to relax,” Theo cut in. “He’s not used to going out. He’s got to stay home and care for his young sister, you see.”

The girls cooed at Potter, who flushed bright red under their attention.

“And care for their ailing puppy,” Draco added, just to see their reactions, and if possible, they cooed even harder.

“Shut up, you guys,” Potter grit out at them, and Draco and Theodore shared a conspiratorial smile over Potter’s scruffy black hair.

“Well, come on in!” the girls called.

Draco turned to wave behind them at Dudley, who was still idling outside the house.

With a wave back, Dudley put the car back into drive and was off, leaving them behind.

“This should be fun,” Theo said, as he was first into the house.

“We’d hope,” Potter grumbled beneath his breath, and stepped up behind him, leaving Draco to shut the door.

“It’s your last day here,” Draco murmured back to him, just quiet enough for Potter to hear. “Live a little.”

Potter just barely turned his head to show he was listening, and nodded, face forwards, expression comically grim when Draco finally got a chance to see it. But try, he did.

When the pizza boxes were brought out, Potter wolfed down a whopping eight slices—though it may have been because Theo was egging him on, telling him that there’s no way Potter could eat more pizza than he could—and managed to chug an entire soda—again, because everyone was cheering him on—without stopping for breath.

Draco patted him on the back, laughing, though mildly concerned. “Slow down there, tiger. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“We haven’t even brought out the beer yet!” a girl, who Draco had recently learned went by Abby, cut in.

“There’s alcohol?” Theo asked, wariness finally creeping into his tone. All night he’d been flirting, playing some macho character Draco had never had the misfortune of meeting before tonight, but it was funny, and he could relate, saying random and blatantly untrue things about his life just to see their reactions. They were so friendly, so giggly and flirty, yet none seemed to be actually expecting sex, or a relationship to form. They just wanted to fool around a bit and have some fun, which is why Draco felt so at ease with them.

Potter, obviously, was unused to going over to girls’ houses for night time parties when their parents were asleep, but he was giving it his all, being surprisingly chatty and casual with them all as well.

Draco was proud of him, much like a parent would be, and whenever Potter saw him smiling in his direction, he would duck his head a bit and smile back bashfully.

“Beer, coming right up!” the host of the party, Charlotte, called out as she entered the room with a six pack. There were eight of them, however the girls seemed to have already planned for this, because they grabbed a bottle in pairs, save for Charlotte.

Theodore looked at his friends with raised eyebrows. “I’m not sharing,” he said.

Draco rolled his eyes, but Harry laughed, and it seemed the two of them would be sharing as well.

“I can share with one of you,” Charlotte offered, fluttering her eyelashes.

“I don’t trust this one to keep his head,” Draco declined gently as he slung an arm around Potter’s shoulders.

“I can take care of myself,” Potter mumbled into the bottle, but he shuffled over and, surprisingly enough, leaned against Draco’s side, as though he intended the two of them to sit in that position for a while.

Draco had only meant it to be momentary, but it would be weird to take his arm away and still have them be sitting so close, or to take his arm away and then have Potter or himself scoot over again in order to make room between them, so he just kept his arm where it was.

“Hey,” Abby piped in, “let’s play a game!”

“Spin the bottle!” one girl giggled.

“We don’t even have an empty bottle yet,” Charlotte said.

“I can change that,” another girl assured with a wink, and her beer partner laughed and elbowed her.

“First, let’s play truth or dare,” Abby said, instead. “Except, no truths, we just do dares, or you drink.”

“Then how ever am I going to get to know you all?” Theo asked dramatically, and the girls laughed again.

“You guys in?” Abby asked, leaning forwards.

“I guess,” Draco replied, a feeling of foreboding settling over him. 

“I’ll go first,” Abby volunteered. “Lotte, dare me whatever you want.” And the games began.

Eventually, one girl turned to Draco. “Draco. I dare you... to do an award acceptance speech for something you deem award-worthy about you.”

Theo groaned. “He’ll never shut up!’

Draco grinned widely. “Do I have to go now, or can I have a few minutes?”

“Off the top of your head,” she girl insisted, “shoot.”

Well, if he had to. Draco stood and cleared his throat before he began bullshitting, as was one of his greater skills.

“A little while ago, I received a certificate. A certificate for my perfect attendance.”

Theo scoffed, and Draco sent him a look, so with a roll of his eyes, the brunette shut his gob.

Draco sniffed, and then continued. “I felt fantastic, really, because I managed to drag my lazy, tired, semi-homicidal self to class all year. I’d like to thank Theo, for being the one who turned on the dorm room lights at the  _ arse  _ crack of dawn in order to sear my sensitive retinas and prepare me for what the day had in store.” Draco remembered earlier that day. “I’d like to thank the dank and dreary bus ride to school for reminding me, even when I have no other choice, even when the vehicle is filled to the brim with children, that other students will still glare you down like you’re the bane of their existence when you timidly ask to share their seat.”

“Timid?” Potter murmured, but he was smiling.

“I’d like to thank my parents for providing me with the necessary vaccinations and safety precautions in order to make my immune system the  _ beast  _ it is today, and even if it wasn’t, for being the people who would forcibly drag me to class by the lobule of my ear unless I was bleeding, unconscious, or had vomited somewhere and had witnesses to prove it. As, I’m sure, all of your parents require.”

The group was all out cackling.

“But, most importantly, I’d like to thank Potter.”

Potter’s mirth diminished, replaced by surprise.

“For becoming my best friend, and for being the one who, on some days, is the only reason I bother waking up at all. For always making me want to show you up, therefore encouraging me to do my best, and for making me feel both accepted and respected, while also being the one to kick me off my high horse when I get out of line.”

Some of the girls were sharing sly looks with one another, and Draco remembered they wanted to get on with the game.

“Basically, thank all of you for playing a part in me bothering to walk to class, and therefore allowing me this wonderful award.”

There was clapping and whooping, and then Draco sat with a bow.

“Good?” he asked, smiling at Potter.

Potter stared back at him, expression unreadable, and when he opened his mouth, another girl interrupted.

“Are you asking Harry a dare?” she inquired promptly. “No talking otherwise.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, but noddded. “Okay, Potter. I dare you to... give Theo a foot massage.”

Potter made a face, and Nott preened.

He took of his shoes with theatrics, and wiggled his toes after removing his socks. “Well?” he asked when Potter just stared at him.

Potter made another face. “I hate you all,” he told them, as if reminding them in case they’d forgotten, but did was he was dared.

When he was finished, all eyes returned to him and everyone stopped their side conversations. “Uh, Draco. I dare you to call me by my first name for the rest of the game.”

Draco blinked. “Um, okay. P-Harry.”

“Good. M-Draco.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Anyway. My turn again?”

“Oi, I haven’t gone in a while,” Charlotte whined. “How about I go?”

Draco squinted. “How does that make sense?”

“Because it’s my party,” she replied, smirking like the kneazle who got the cream.

Draco shrugged. “Your majesty,” he acquiesced, and Charlotte giggled.

Some dares were tame, like, “Make up the lifestory of the object nearest to you,” or, “Do an impression of someone until one of us can guess who you are,” or, “tell the person next to you a secret you know about another person in this room,” but slowly the dares turned, well, raunchier, of course.

“Ally, I dare you to bite Theo’s arse. You can do it through his trousers, if you must.”

“Hey!” Ally shrieked, but she shyly looked over and did just that. Through his torusers, of course.

Draco hooted. “Kinky, Theo!”

“How on earth does someone else’s dare make  _ me  _ kinky?” Theodore replied, face bright red as he reseated himself and Ally crawled back to her previous seat.

“You liked it,” Draco decided imperiously.

“You’re full of shit,” Theo replied.

“Um, Denisse,” Ally spoke up, “I dare you to take and send a nude photo to someone else. They could be in this room, or not.”

Denisse squealed in delight as she stood up and scampered to the bathroom.

They all sat with baited breath until, a second later, Draco’s phone vibrated, and the girls all roared with laughter.

Draco smirked at Theo, who looked envious.

_ I’ve a phone _ , he mouthed at his friend, and when he looked down, the smirk dropped from his face, replaced by shock and mild awe.

“Fuck,” he said, and the girls tittered again.

When Denisse returned to the room and winked at him, still buttoning her blouse, Draco genuinely gave her a once-over in response, because damn.

“Ooh, someone looks jealous,” Abby said, and all eyes landed on P-Harry, for whatever reason.

When Draco glanced at him, Harry was rolling his eyes and sipping on his beer.

“I’ll give you my number if you want it,” Denisse offered.

Harry blushed and waved her off, ducking further into his drink.

Another round went by, and just when Draco checked the time on his phone and was about to call it a night for them—they had to fly all the way back home, after all—Charlotte looked directly at him.

“Draco. I dare you to go in the bathroom and have seven minutes in heaven with... one of the boys.” All the girls shared a look, as though it was obvious who he would choose.

Draco wasn’t really comfortable with the dare, but he trusted his friends. Theo to be, well, as heterosexual as he’d always been known to be, and P-Harry to be, well, trustworthy. 

Harry stood immediately.

Draco looked up at him, surprised.

“Didn’t you say that if you were going to be gay with anyone, it would be with me?” he asked, blunt.

Draco blinked at him. “Um. Sure,” he replied, holding out a hand, and Harry pulled him up.

The girls were giggling as they made their way to the bathroom.

“Remember to turn off the lights!” Charlotte called after them. “We’ll let you two out after seven minutes, but we’re going to keep playing in the meantime, alright? You guys should probably get going soon.”

Draco nodded absently as they both entered the rather cramped bathroom, blind as Draco shut the door behind him and they were engulfed in darkness.

“Um, we don’t have to do anything,” Harry whispered in the sudden quiet.

Draco had a dilemma. Part of him, being the thrill seeker he was, wanted to kiss Harry, just because he wanted to experience kissing, kissing a boy, and even kissing his best friend. Just to know what it was like. To see how it would feel, how Harry kissed, if he would like it at all, if Harry would like it at all.

However, another part of him knew he shouldn’t, because he wanted to dissuade Harry’s misdirected feelings, and kissing him might give Harry the wrong idea—that Draco wanted to kiss him in particular, and/or that he may feel inclined to kiss him again in the future.

But it was dark, and they were playing truth or dare, so Draco could just say he wasn’t the type to back out on a dare.

But not only could Harry still like the kiss, therefore encouraging his ‘feelings’, but there was also the chance that an answer like, “I never back out on a dare,” may give Harry the impression that Draco didn’t value Harry’s feelings at all, which he didn’t want, either, because he did care about Harry.

“We shouldn’t,” Draco decided.

Harry was quiet for a moment. “What’s that supposed to mean? ‘We  _ shouldn’t’ _ ?”

Draco wondered what he should say. If he should be candid, like he always was.

The darkness emboldened him, their intimdate whispering giving him strength.

“I don’t want to give you the wrong idea, honestly, and I care more about doing what’s best for you than being young and reckless and snogging just because I’ve yet to back down from a dare so far.”

Draco hadn’t been aware how close they were standing until Harry stepped back, which Draco both felt from the sudden loss of heat, and heard from the almost ominous echo of his footstep against the tile.

“You think I’ll get the wrong idea?” Harry asked, sounding angry. “It’s just a dare, Draco,” he said, almost parroting Draco’s previous sentiment.

“I know,” Draco said, lowering his voice, softening it, and he almost sighed when Harry stepped closer again to hear him better, because he felt the slight warmth return. “But I also didn’t want to kiss you because I  _ assumed  _ you would think nothing else of it, and then leave you with the impression that I take you feelings for me lightly. Because I don’t.” Draco reached out, blindly, but somehow made connection with Harry’s shoulder, which he gripped firmly. “It took courage to say what you did to me, courage I don’t think I could ever dream of having, and you speak of things I can’t even imagine feeling. I don’t want to assume you’ll brush this off easily, when I can’t even pretend to empathise accurately. I didn’t want to assume anything.”

“Well,” Harry murmured, quiet and close, Draco could feel his breath against his face, “I won’t. Read too deeply into it, I mean. You’re not promising me anything, anyway, so I kind of... just want to experience it. With you. At least once, you know? And this gives us an excuse, so it won’t be weird, right?”

Draco laughed soundlessly, and maybe Harry heard it, maybe not, but Draco felt the lightest feathering of fingers at his hips, and he shivered, because the sensation had been ticklish and unexpected.

“I think this is already a little weird,” Draco replied.

“But you’ll do it? For the dare?”

Draco stared into the darkness, wondering if he should correct him.

Harry had been honest with him so far, so Draco replied in kind.

“I’ll do it just because I kind of want to experience it too. But don’t—I know, you won’t take that the wrong way, you already said. I’ve never kissed a bloke before, though. I’m... interested.”

“How much longer do you think we have left?”

“Five minutes, maybe? Though that sounds like an awfully long time.”

“Awfully,” Harry agreed, as he leaned in and lightly brushed his mouth along Draco’s cheek.

“You missed,” Draco said.

“Shut up,” Harry mumbled against Draco’s skin, and Draco laughed quietly.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” Draco asked.

“Of course,” Harry said, nibbling his lips along Draco’s face.

“Really?” Draco asked.

“Well, kind of,” Harry admitted, leaning back a bit so he could theoretically look Draco in the eye, if the lights had been on. “I’ve kissed a few girls after, like, dates, but nothing like snogging. Just... a little french kissing. Like, barely. There was no real  _ getting into it _ , if that makes sense.”

Draco nodded, aware Harry wouldn’t be able to see it. “Alright,” he said, because it was.

“Alright?”

“Sure. Let’s do it. Maybe you just kiss weird.”

“What?” Harry asked, sounding offended.

“Maybe that’s why you never made it past ‘a little french kissing’.”

“I think they just... didn’t like me all that much.”

“Even then, you’re easy enough on the eyes. Surely they could suffer through your abysmal flirting long enough-”

Harry’s hand came up to cover his mouth. “Shut  _ up _ , you ridiculous pillock. I kiss  _ fine _ , and I’m not  _ abysal  _ at flirting. How would you even know?”

Draco mumbled something against his hand.

Harry removed it, leaning in. “What?”

Draco, smirking in the darkness, stuck out his tongue and licked a stripe along whatever skin he met.

“Shit, you almost tongued my  _ eye _ ,” Harry said, making a move to step away from him.

“Yes, well, let’s try and get it in your mouth,” Draco said, placing his hands on Harry’s sides to keep him in place.

“Is this  _ you  _ flirting? Because I can assure you, even  _ I  _ could do better than that.”

“I’m always flirting, a little,” Draco admitted. “No, this is just me trying to do this because we may never get the chance with all your dawdling.”

“Okay, eager, much?” Harry asked, sounding smug, which didn’t suit him, in Draco’s slightly cross opinion.

“Forget it, then,” Draco said, pushing Harry away. “Forget I offered-”

“Hey, don’t be that way-”

“Look, Harry, are you going to kiss me or not?”

Harry was silent for a long few moments.

“Well?” Draco prompted, feeling oddly left out and... rejected. He thought they’d been on the same page, with their casual experimentation—nothing romantic, of course, they both knew that—but Draco still felt personally offended that Harry wanted to back out after he’d been the one to get Draco to agree to it.

“Alright, just,” Harry said, voice sounding odd until he cleared his throat, “just give me a second, will you? I’m trying to commit this to memory.”

Draco frowned. “Why?” Then, he smirked. “Did that do something for you? Who’s a bad flirter now?”

Harry scoffed. “You’re full of it.”

“Full of truthfulness, of course.”

“Well, you know-”

The door was ripped open behind them, and Draco nearly went tumbling out as all of his weight had been pressed against the door, but Harry threw out a hand and caught him, helping the blond regain his balance.

“Seven minutes are up!” Charlotte chirped. “Did you two have a good time?”

“Sure,” Draco replied, winking at her and making his way back over towards the circle, but when he looked at Harry, the boy had an expression on his face that Draco didn’t like.

Like a littlun who’d accidentally licked too hard, and their ice cream had fallen all over the floor. Like someone who was missing out on something great, like he’d lost something.

Draco didn’t know how to tell him  _ later, we can kiss later _ , because he knew he shouldn’t, and, really, he was surprised he’d been persuaded so far in the first place. In the harsher light of the living room, the conversation in the dark bathroom seemed distant, less believable.

He wondered if that’s why Harry looked so crestfallen. If he just realized it was never going to happen, that Draco had, in the end, been all bark and no bite. Mostly teasing, mostly needless flirting.

Draco felt bad, he supposed, for leading him on, even though, at the time, he’d had every intention of following through. But this was for the best, and Harry would get over it, Draco was sure. Draco hoped.

He felt bad. Definitely. For encouraging Harry as far as he had, saying that he’d wanted to kiss him too—which, knowing the kiss was never to happen, Draco regretted immensely—and then leaving it up to the end of seven minutes. Leaving it all to a dare, when they both knew they’d been speaking to each other as if they’d wanted to kiss each other anyway, even without the dare, because they were curious.

But now, dare over, Draco had no intention of following through, which means that he did, in the end, lead Harry on, and he felt awful, watching Harry shake his head a bit, as though shaking off a headache, and smile at Theo and casually return to conversation, as though it’d never happened. As it never would.

“We should probably head home,” Draco blurted, which was true, though he hadn’t meant to do it so soon after the end of his dare, because that had implications of its own that he didn’t want to think about, but what was done was done, so he didn’t back out. “Sorry to leave you kind ladies, and thank you so much for having us over as long as you did.”

“Aww,” crooned Denisse, “but we didn’t even get to hear you guys sing!”

Harry choked on his beer, and Draco felt worse all of a sudden. Realizing that he’d had a mere few sips, and Harry was probably drunk off his arse. 

“Sing?” Harry gasped when he caught his breath.

“We don’t have any songs with us,” Draco apologised as well.

“Oh, sing us  _ something _ ,” Charlotte insisted. “Any song, it doesn’t have to be yours.”

“Hey!” Theo cut in. “What about that stupid song you sang like all of last year after that play you saw?”

Draco groaned. “Seriously, Theo? We should just leave.”

“They want a song, so give them a song,” Theo argued instead.

Draco narrowed his eyes at his suddenly demanding friend— who in the hell did he think he was, bossing  _ Draco Malfoy  _ around?—but then he saw how he and that girl Ally were making eyes at each other, so Draco figured he could buy them an extra thirty seconds together.

“I've learned to slam on the brake before I even turn the key, before I make the mistake, before I lead with the worst of me.”

The group quieted down, looking at him.

Draco cleared his throat a bit, a tad nervous at being watched, but he knew he had a decent enough voice, so he ploughed on.

“Give them no reason to stare. No slipping up if you slip away. So I got nothing to share, no, I got nothing to say. Step out, step out of the sun if you keep getting burned. Step out, step out of the sun because you've learned, because you've learned—On the outside, always looking in, will I ever be more than I've always been? 'Cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass. I'm waving through a window.”

Draco could feel heat creeping up his collar, so he tugged on it as he sang his way through the last verse.

“I try to speak, but nobody can hear, so I wait around for an answer to appear while I'm watch, watch, watching people pass. I'm waving through a window-oh. Can anybody see? Is anybody waving back at me?”

Theo blinked at him drowsily. “For future reference, you sound a lot better the drunker I am.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but smiled at the jibe. “Brilliant. You’ll a pleasure to fly home with tonight, then.”

“Fly?” Ally asked, looking distraught. “You guys have to go that far to get home?”

“We don’t live around here,” Draco said.

“Well, shit! Are you guys going to miss your flight or anything?” Abby asked, eyes wide.

“We’ve time,” Harry jumped in to assure.

Draco turned to smile at him, but Harry didn’t look in his direction.

“Well, thanks for playing with us anyway,” Charlotte sighed, pouting. “Just when we find fun boys, they’re moving.”

“That’s why we’re so fun!” Theo chirped. “Nothing to lose!”

The group laughed, and soon enough the three boys were making their way to the nearest alley in order to pull out their brooms.

“Hey, Theo, give Draco and I a moment, will you?” Harry suddenly asked as they neared a darkened alcove.

Theodore stared at the two of them—rather, their shapes in the darkness—before sighing and grumbling something beneath his breath. He nodded in their general direction as he made his way to another building.

“I’ve gotta piss anyway,” he called over his shoulder.

Draco watched him go, and then turned to Harry, whose eyes were almost glowing in the dark. Almost.

“What?”

“Can we try again?” Harry asked, reclining against the brick wall behind him.

“I don’t think we should,” Draco said awkwardly, rubbing at one of his arms. He was getting goosebumps, though it wasn’t cold out at all.

“Just for a second, not even seven minutes,” Harry said, though he sounded rather calm. 

“I really don’t think...” Draco trailed off, feeling worse.

“You find me attractive,” Harry said, and Draco was caught off guard.

“What?” he asked, and reflexively, as though checking if it were true, he eyed Harry’s figure in the darkness, the confident way he was leaning against the wall, hips forward, hands in pockets, head back, eyes watching, lips pressed in a thin line.

“You said so earlier. Said I was easy on the eyes. And you said you wanted to try kissing me anyway.”

“Maybe I should stop speaking my mind if you’re going to use everything I say against me,” Draco replied, but he did step closer to Harry, if only because they weren’t lies, and despite the tension he felt, Harry didn’t scare him. Not really. He wouldn’t do anything Draco really didn’t want.

If only Draco knew what he really didn’t want.

“If I’m not hideous, and we’re only doing it to see how it feels, then why not?”

“Why are you pushing this right now?” Draco asked, and he stepped closer.

“Because I know you, Draco,” Harry said, and he pushed off the wall, stalking up to Draco like—like Draco didn’t know. Something dangerous. “You like to play coy, but you even admitted you’re always flirting. How do I know I’ll ever get this chance again? You hardly mean anything by it, but today, tonight, you were... sincere. Like this is something I could actually have if you just gave it to me.”

“It’s not that simple-”

“Why can’t it be?” Harry asked, and he stepped into the light, his large, earnest eyes making Draco’s chest tighten up.

“I feel too much for you to do that and have it be simple,” Draco told him. “It’s not going to be simple.”

Harry stared at him, and then at his shoes, and then up, at the moon.

“You said you’d give me a second chance, right?” Harry said.

Draco blinked. “I—what?”

“Later. If I confess to you again.”

“I—I said I would, yes.”

“Okay,” Harry said, and then inhaled deeply before exhaling loudly. He looked at Draco. “Just for the record, I’m not going to let you go next time.”

Draco stared back at him.

“Theo!” Harry yelled all of a sudden, and Draco nearly leapt out of his skin at the unexpected volume. “Come on! We’re heading out!”

Theo came around the corner soon after. “Yeah, yeah,  _ Ma _ , I’m coming.”

And off they went. The night was quiet, calm, and the moonlight made Harry, flying a little ways ahead of them, look like a bird of the night.

“Oi, Draco,” Theo called out quietly, just enough for Draco to hear. “I’m about to fall asleep right fucking here. Sing that song for me again, will you?”

Draco stared at Harry’s back, wondering if Harry heard, if he cared.

Draco continued to sing quietly.

“We start with stars in our eyes. We start believing that we belong. But every sun doesn't rise, and no one tells you where you went wrong...”

Theo nearly fell off his broom.

“You’re practically asleep anyway!” Draco accused.

Theodore yawned loudly. “Bite me.”

“I believe Ally did that,” Harry called back to them.

Theo grinned goofily for a moment. “I liked her.”

“Told you, you kinky bastard.”

“Wha-not the  _ bite _ !”

“Sure,” Draco replied, smirking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! And hey, an end for this fic is in sight!  
> Pls leave a comment if you enjoyed this chapter, despite all the cliches~
> 
> And, if you're curious, that award acceptance speech? Though that's a mere excerpt of the original, and it's edited a bit here in order to work with the story, yes, I did actually write and submit that for an english class prompt last year. Thought I'd throw it in here, haha


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